Stargate: The Twelve Colonies
by Seraphin2011
Summary: The Cylons are preparing to attack the Colonies, and they are determined to end all human existence once and for all. But the Cylons don't know the Terrans have learned about their attack, and they will not stay idle and let the Cylons commit such atrocity, not if they can help it. This is a spin-off from the other story I'm writing, splitting around the half of the second book.
1. Prologue

**Author's note: **Hello everyone. This is the first chapter of a spin-off from the other story I'm writing. This story picks up when the Terrans in my version of the Stargate Universe discover the existence of the Twelve Colonies and the Cylons in a secluded region of the Milky Way Galaxy, and decide to meddle in their affairs. From that point on this story will exclusively be related to events regarding the Colonials, while my other story continues with the other problems the Terrans have to deal with.

Well, enough talk. Here it comes.

_**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll like this story too.**_

* * *

**STARGATE: THE TWELVE COLONIES**

_The Cylons were created by man. _

_They were created to make life easier on the Twelve Colonies. _

_And then the day came when the Cylons decided to kill their masters. _

_After a long and bloody struggle, an armistice was declared. The Cylons left for another world to call their own. _

_A remote space station was built... _

_...where Cylon and Human could meet and maintain diplomatic relations. _

_Every year, the colonials sent an officer. _

_The Cylons sent no one. _

_No one has seen or heard from the Cylons in over forty years._

* * *

On a remote space station, created with the sole purpose of meeting with the Cylons once every year, a man was slowly nodding off to sleep. Suddenly, the doors opened and two metallic Cylons walked in, flanking the doorway. The man froze in his chair. This was something that had never happened before.

A blonde woman, in a red suit, entered the room, slowly walking down the hallway towards him. Reaching the table in front of the man, she sat on it, looking at the man that she thought by now must be frightened as hell. The woman leaned against his side of the table, bending over him.

"Are you alive?" Six asked.

The man felt confused. A very strange question to ask at such moment, but then he thought about it, and came to the conclusion that it didn't really matter. He knew he was going to die today.

And he didn't much care either. "Lady, I haven't felt alive in twenty years!"

Six was slightly taken aback by the man's brusque reply, "Why not?"

"Are you blind? Look what I do for a living? If I'm not on this frakking station waiting for you to show up, something, year after year, you were never interested in doing, then I'm in some even smaller office, doing the most boring job in the Twelve Colonies. My wife left me, and my only daughter hasn't spoken to me in years. My only brother, the only man that I could actually talk to, had an accident last year. He barely survived and lost both legs. And now the only thing he does is to sit at home all day and drink…"

Six was stunned. She didn't think this man would tell her his life story, especially not one as depressing. And, apparently, he wasn't about to stop either.

"…oh, and not to mention the two mortgages I have to pay if I want to keep the house. And I'm not even living in that house anymore! My wife got it in the divorce…

'_Where the frak are those missiles!'_ Six thought.

Moments later, the first missile impacted the station. "Thank God!" Six said, relieved.

"…I wish at least my daughter would speak to me, you know. But her mother turned her against me. That witch!"

"You never stop do you?" Six asked annoyed.

"Stop what?"

* * *

Six woke up in the resurrection tub, immediately noticing Three and another Six standing next to her.

"Calm down, everything is going to be fine."

"Everything is not frakking fine! Next time one of you two is going to a space station in the middle of nowhere to talk to a human. Why the frak did I even have to go to that station if we were going to blow it up anyway?"

"One wanted it."

"Then next time he's going to be the one to go and not me!"

* * *

Inside the _Galactica_, located in the Helios Alpha system, Starbuck was jogging through the corridors. She passed several people before approaching a large tour group. "Make a hole!"

The tour group quickly moved out of the way, allowing her to run through the middle while the tour guide was explaining the inner workings of the ship. "As I was saying, form follows function. Now, nowhere is this axiom of design more readily apparent than on board the worlds famous Battlestar _Galactica_. This ship, the last of her kind still in service, was constructed over fifty years ago in the early days of the Cylon War. Now, originally there were twelve battlestars, each representing one of Kobol's Twelve Colonies. _Galactica_ represented Caprica and was first commanded by Commander Dash…"

Further down the corridor Adama was rehearsing a speech he was preparing, "The Cylon War is long over, yet we must not forget the reasons why..."

"Commander Adama, if I may?" Captain Kelly asked as he almost bumped into Adama.

"Captain."

"I just wanted to say what a pleasure it's been, serving with you in your command, sir."

"Captain Kelly. It's been my honor. Good luck in your next assignment," Adama said, shaking the man's hand.

"Thank you sir," the man said before moving on with his duties.

Adama began again reading his speech. "The Cylon War is long over, yet we must not forget... "

"Morning, Sir," Starbuck saluted as she jogged next to Adama.

"Good morning, Starbuck. What do you hear?"

"Nothing but the rain."

"Grab your gun and bring in the cat."

Starbuck pointed her index as if it was a gun, firing three shots. She then continued with her jogging.

Adama continued his walk, again stopped by more crewmembers talking.

"Let's go guys, Chief's gonna have our ass," tech Prosna said.

"Yeah, well, you're the one who was supposed to wrap that yesterday," Cally replied.

"Shh, it's the old man," Prosna replied as he noticed Adama.

"Too late. What's up?" Adama stopped having heard them talking.

"Nothing sir, just another leak in that frakking window. Pardon me, sir," another tech said while saluting the CO.

"It's supposed to be a battlestar, not a museum. Sorry for saying so, sir," Prosna added.

"I couldn't agree with you more. Be careful out there, all right?" Adama said moving further to the CIC, again rehearsing his speech. "The Cylon War is long over, yet we cannot forget the reasons why..."

"Morning, sir," Lt. Gaeta said to his CO.

"Good morning," Adama replied, once again stopping from reading his speech.

"Comm. traffic from the mid-watch," Gaeta said

"Hmm. Anything interesting?" Adama asked.

"Uhh, mostly housekeeping. Ah, there was one odd message, the one that we were copied on from fleet headquarters there, sir. Courier officer's overdue coming back from Armistice Station. They've asked for a full status report on all FTL capable ships, just in case they need someone to jump out there today, see if his ship is having any mechanical problems."

"I think we're a little bit busy today, wouldn't you say so, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm glad we agree."

"And may I take this opportunity to say that it's been both a pleasure and an honor to serve under you these past three years."

"It's my honor, Lt. Gaeta," Adama said, both saluting.

Gaeta moved out into the hallway while Adama continued to rehearse his speech, yet again.

As Gaeta moved through the corridor, he noticed Colonel Tigh leaning against a wall with a cup in his hand. He was more than certain there wasn't _just _coffee in the cup, "Colonel?"

The Colonel saluted absentmindedly, before moving on. Mere seconds later, he bumped into the tour guide.

"You'll see things here that look odd, even antiquated." The tour guide said before noticing the colonel. "Hello."

Tigh simply walked past him without saying anything. The tour guide continued with his tour's speech. "Uh, antiquated to modern eyes, like phones with cords, awkward manual valves, computers that, well, barely deserve the name. It was all designed to operate against an enemy who could infiltrate and disrupt even the most basic computer systems. _Galactica_ is a reminder of a time when we were so frightened by our enemies that we literally looked backward for protection…"

In the meantime Adama had walked down a flight of stairs to the hangar. "Good morning."

Chief Tyrol turned around and saluted the CO.

"Hey, Chief. At ease," Adama said.

"This way," the Chief said, gesturing for Adama to follow.

Adama began moving as he saw a viper Mark II. "Mark II; haven't seen one of these in about twenty years."

"If the commander will take a closer look," The Chief said to the CO.

Adama looked more intently at the ship. The side of the ship read: _Lt. William Adama, "Husher"._

Adama laughed. "Oh my gods. Where did you find her?"

"Rusting out in a salvage yard in Saggitarion. We had hoped the commander would allow her to participate in the decommissioning ceremony."

"She'll fly?"

"Oh yes, sir. We've restored the engines, patched the guidance system, replaced much of the controls..."

"You guys are amazing."

"...she's fueled, armed. Ready for launch, sir," the Chief said, holding out a package. "Commander."

"What, _more_?" Adama asked while taking the package "Somebody's buckin' for promotion around here."

"I believe that would be Prosna, sir. He found this in the fleet archives; he was doing some research for the museum."

Adama unwrapped the package, seeing it is a picture of a younger Adama with two boys, one blond and one dark-haired. They were all wearing jumpsuits and were standing in front of a Viper. Adama took a deep breath. "Thank you. Thank you all. It's an honor."

"You're welcome, sir," the Chief replied before turning to the crew. "Fall out."

While the crew moved back to work, Adama remained looking at the photograph.

* * *

Later, in another part of the ship, Tigh was pouring something from a flask into his mug. He was in a common room where Starbuck, Boomer, Helo, the CAG and him were playing some sort of poker-like game with octagonal cards.

"Uh oh," Starbuck said.

"Here we go," a man replied.

"If you're gonna play with the big dogs..." Starbuck continued.

"No fair," Boomer said grudgingly.

"I'm in. That's you, XO." Helo added, placing a few chips in the pot on the table.

"Ohhh, Helo. When you gonna learn? First you're flying with rooks, and then..." Starbuck began saying but stopped when Boomer hit her.

"Hey." Boomer said.

"…And then you're betting against Starbuck," Starbuck continued.

Helo made a 'bring it on' gesture.

"Starbuck. That's a good call sign. Starbuck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck," Tigh said, making it sound like a chicken clucking. "Where'd you get that nickname, anyway? Was that before you were thrown in the brig for drunk and disorderly as a cadet, or after?"

"After."

"After, that's right, it was... after."

"I'm in. Thanks to you, XO," Helo said.

"How's the wife?" Starbuck asked Tigh, not amused.

"Too early for that kind of money," Boomer said, throwing her cards.

"Hey. Check out that pyramid game on Geminon?" Helo said.

"What were you doing on Geminon?" the CAG asked.

While the other continued talking, Tigh and Starbuck were still glaring at each other.

"There's a girl there I know." Helo continued, not paying attention at the two of them.

"What girl don't you know?" Boomer replied.

"The wife is just fine," Tigh said, finally.

"Talk to her lately?" Starbuck continued, smiling.

"That's you, Lieutenant." The CAG said.

"Great. Thirty to me, and it looks like I'm going to bring this lovely little game to a close, cause - full colors. Aha!" Starbuck said, laughing and doing a little victory dance.

Tigh on the other hand got on his feet, pushing over the table. Without thinking twice Starbuck punched the old man in the face. Boomer stepped in, pulling Starbuck back who wanted to punch the XO again.

"Okay, I'm fine, I'm fine," Starbuck said, calming down, but the moment Boomer lets her go, she again tried to assault her superior officer.

"You have finally gone too far, and now you're done. Lieutenant, consider yourself under arrest, pending charges. Report to the brig," Tigh replied, pointing his finger at her.

Starbuck picked up her cigar, holding up her hands. "Gentlemen," she said before leaving.

* * *

An hour later, in Adama's quarters, he is listening to Tigh and his recollection of events while washing up and getting dressed.

"Are you really going to press charges against Kara?" Adama asked. He always had a soft spot when she was involved.

"For striking a superior officer? You're damn right I am."

"Heard you started the day off pretty early."

Tigh walked over, picking up a picture of Adama and his kids. "I wasn't on duty. Where did you get this?"

"Tyrol's deck gang scrounged it up. I couldn't talk you out of it, could I?"

"Not a chance. She is insubordinate, undisciplined…"

"Probably one of the finest fighter pilots I've ever seen in my life."

"Yeah."

"She's better than I am. Twice as good as you."

"Like hell."

"Listen. I'm not gonna defend what she did, especially the cracks about your marital problems. But you did kick over the table first."

"I did not," Tigh said, pausing for a moment to think. "Unless I did."

"You did. So what do you say we just drop the formal charges, throw her in the brig, cool her heels off until we get home."

"You always did have a soft spot for her."

"Yeah, I guess I'm just a crazy old man."

* * *

"So now you're telling me, umm… now you're telling me that you're a machine?" Gaius Baltar asked the woman lying in his bed.

"I'm a woman," Six replied.

You're a machine. You're a synthetic woman, a robot."

"I've said it three times now."

"Well, forgive me, I'm having the tiniest bit of trouble believing that, because the last time anybody saw the Cylons, they looked more like walking chrome toasters."

"Those models are still around. They have their uses."

"Prove it. If you're a Cylon, prove it to me right now."

"I don't have to. You know I'm telling the truth."

"See, stating something as the truth doesn't necessarily make it so, because the truth of the matter is, I don't believe a word of it."

"You believe me, because deep down you've always known there was something different about me; something that didn't quite add up in the usual way. And you believe me because it flatters your ego, to believe that alone among all the billions of people of the Twelve Colonies, you were chosen for my mission."

"Your mission? What mission?"

"You knew I wanted access to the defense mainframe."

Baltar remained stunned. "Def… Wait a minute, the defense mainframe? What exactly are you saying?"

"Come on, Gaius. The communications frequencies, deployment schedules, unlimited access to every database…"

"Oh my god!" Baltar said, thinking for a moment. "I had nothing to do with this. You know I had nothing to do with this."

"You have an amazing capacity for self-deception. How do you do that?"

"How many people know? About me? Specifically, that I'm involved?"

"Even now, as the fate of your entire world hangs in the balance, all you can think about is how this affects you."

"Do you have any idea what they'll do to me if they find out?"

"They'd probably charge you with treason."

"Treason is punishable by the death penalty. This is unbelievable."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm phoning my attorney."

"That won't be necessary."

"Yeah, he'll know what to do, he'll sort this out. He's the best in the business."

"It won't be necessary, because in a few hours, no one will be left to charge you with anything."

"What exactly are you saying?"

"Humanity's children are returning home. Today," Six said as, outside the window, there was a bright flash of light on the horizon.

Baltar looked in shock at what had just happened. They were nuking the planet. He quickly moved turning on the television, displaying two channels at once.

"We don't have any more information yet, but, uh... / ...all remaining ships able to leave Caprica... / ...no actual enemy has yet been sighted... / ...get out into the open countryside or the lesser populated areas of the city... / ...but there doesn't seem to be any doubt..."

Both feeds were abruptly cut, leaving only static.

"What have I done? What am I gonna do? There's no way out," Baltar cried out in panic.

"I know."

"Sure you know. That's your doing, isn't it? Wait. Wait, there has to be another way out of here. I mean, I mean, you must have an escape plan. You're not about to be destroyed by your own bombs, are you? How are you leaving?"

"Gaius. I can't die. When this body is destroyed, my memory, my consciousness, will be transmitted to a new one. I'll just wake up somewhere else in an identical body."

"You mean there's more out there like you?"

"There are twelve models. I'm number six."

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

Six looked out of the window, wondering.

Gaius stopped whining the moment he noticed Six's strange expression, as if something wasn't right, "What is it?"

"Well, I thought there would be more nuclear explosions by now," Six answered, very confused.

* * *

Aboard the oldest Terran spaceship, floating on the outskirts of the Helios Alpha system, Captain Pendergast moved through the various corridors on his way to the cargo bay the TIA agents had indiscriminately turned into an intelligence gathering station. He didn't like it. No one asked him if he wanted a cargo bay to be turned into something else, and he liked the TIA agents behaving as if they were in charge even less. He had clear instructions that the _Prometheus_ was under the TIA purview for the duration of this mission, with the duration of the mission not being specified in the orders.

Pendergast entered the cargo bay, noticing the small group of TIA agents working on their stations.

"Are there any news?" Pendergast asked.

"The Cylons have just begun their attack on the colonies. We have detected several nuclear explosions on Caprica," Brian Fitzpatrick, the man in charge, replied.

"Nuclear explosions? Does this mean our virus didn't work?" Pendergast asked.

"It did," Brian replied. "Our virus infiltrated the Colonial systems the same way the Cylon virus did, through the same backdoor in their navigational system. The virus was able to counteract any attempt from the Cylon virus to disrupt the normal functioning of their ships."

"Then why they didn't stop the Cylons?"

"I would say, slow reaction time and the Cylons going straight for the planets, which will soon turn out to be a very bad move on their part," Brian said.

"The Cylons must have thought the Colonial warships would be disabled by now, so they sent only a few raiders to destroy them while the rest of their fleet turned immediately on the Colonial planets. They are now being flanked by the Colonial forces, and it won't be pretty," Joshua Philips, another TIA agent, added.

"Still, they were able to drop nuclear bombs on the population and that is the part I don't like," Pendergast added thoughtfully.

"Nothing we can do about that. Our orders were to covertly help the Colonials and that's what we've done," Brian replied.

"I am aware of our orders. Does that mean our mission is over and that we can go back home?"

"No, Captain. And it won't be over for quite some time," Brian added.

"Our mission has just got more interesting… and long term."

Pendergast didn't like how this had sounded, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we've received new orders. We're to stay here and monitor the situation. A stealth frigate will soon bring us more agents as well."

This was really not what the captain wanted to hear. "Great! Just great."

"Sorry Captain, but… orders are orders."

* * *

Adama sat in his office, reading the latest reports, when the intercom buzzed.

"_CIC to commanding officer,"_ Gaeta's voice was heard.

Adama picked up the phone. "Go ahead."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have a Priority One alert message from Fleet Headquarters. It was transmitted in the clear."

"In the clear? What does it say?"

"Attention all Colonial units. Cylon attack underway. This is no drill."

"I'll be right there."

Ten minutes later, Colonel Tigh was looking at a picture of a blonde woman and pushing a lit cigar through her face when the alarms went off throughout the ship. Tigh looked around not knowing what was going on.

"_Action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Repeat, action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Repeat, action stations, action stations."_

Tigh immediately pulled his jacket on and exited his room, immediately noticing crew members around him already rushing to their posts. He needed to reach the CIC and see what was really going on.

"Not a drill? They cannot be serious." Prosna shouted, while passing near Tigh.

"Sounds like it to me," Cally replied, as well not certain what was going on.

"What are we gonna shoot with? The ship's got no ammunition." Prosna replied, dumbfounded.

"All right people, let's go. Let's get to the hangar bay and get it ready for possible incoming," the Chief ordered.

Meanwhile, Tigh had moved through the various corridors and had reached the CIC. "What have we got? Shipping accident?" he asked while Adama was giving him the memo.

"Combat? Understood," Gaeta said hanging the phone. "Condition One is set. All decks report ready for action, sir."

"Very well," Adama replied.

"This is a joke. The fleet's playing a joke on you. It's a retirement prank, come on," Tigh replied.

"I don't think so," Adama replied before taking the intercom. "This is the Commander. Moments ago, this ship received word a Cylon attack against our home worlds is underway. We do not know the size or the disposition or the strength of the enemy forces. But all indications point to a massive assault against Colonial defenses. Admiral Nagala has taken personal command of the fleet aboard the Battlestar Atlantea in orbit of Picon Fleet Headquarters. How, why - doesn't really matter now. What does matter is that as of this moment, we are at war. You've trained for this, you're ready for this. Stand to your duties, trust your fellow shipmates, and we'll all get through this. Further updates as we get them. Thank you."

"Tactical," Adama said, dropping the intercom.

"Sir?" Gaeta asked.

"Begin a plot of all military units in the system, friendly or otherwise."

"Yes, sir."

"XO."

"Sir," Tigh answered.

"We're in a shooting war. We need something to shoot with."

"I'll start checking munitions depots."

"Dee. Send a signal to our fighter squadron. I want positions and tactical status immediately."

"Yes, sir," Dualla replied.

And get Kara Thrace out of the brig."

"Sir, I just received a message from Picon Headquarters. They are ordering us and any civilian ship in the area to jump to Picon Anchorage."

"Are they joking? This ship hadn't jumped in ten years," Tigh replied.

"We have no choice Saul; too many Cylon raiders between us and Picon to go through, especially without bullets."

"Understood."

"Mister Gaeta, plot jump coordinates for Picon."

"Yes sir."

Gaeta worked on the console in front of him for almost five minutes, before pulling out the special key. Without this key the jump drive would not work. "I have the coordinates, Commander."

"Set the clock."

The cloak was set for ten seconds. At the end of the ten seconds Gaeta turned the key, with the ship powering up the FTL drive and jumping away.

* * *

Adama entered Admiral Nagala's office in the Colonial's military headquarter on Picon where the admiral was sitting behind his desk, swamped by a small mountain of paperwork.

"Commander Adama, thank you for joining me," the Admiral said, the moment he saw Adama.

"Admiral, I came as soon as I received the order to report to you." It had been three days since the initial attack, and Adama was becoming restless. He wanted answers and even more he wanted to do something to help.

"Please, take a seat Commander."

"I'm sorry for my bluntness, sir, but can you tell me what the situation is? Nobody is saying anything."

"Commander, the situation is that we have been caught with our pants down. As a result, our colonies have sustained massive civilian losses, all except for Picon and Aerilon. Caprica and Geminon fared the worst. There is talk of completely evacuating the planets, since there is so much radiation that those who didn't die in the blast will soon follow if we leave them there without the appropriate meds.

"On the other hand, our military fared much better. We lost ten battlestars, but the Cylons paid dearly with more than fifteen of their baseships having been destroyed, as well as thousands of raiders."

"I heard rumors that the Cylon losses were due to their baseships immediately taking orbit and beginning bombardment of our worlds instead of fighting our warships."

"Yes, and this is the reason why I wanted you here. It was strange to me as well that the Cylons used such flawed tactic. Or at least that was until we found out some of our ships had some trouble."

"Trouble sir?"

"Yes Commander. Our ships had been infiltrated by a Cylon virus."

"Thank the gods those ships were not completely disabled," Adama replied, knowing full well all new ships were networked, which made a Cylon virus the deadliest of what the Cylons could throw at them."

"I don't think the Gods had anything to do with this."

"I don't understand."

"Except for the Cylon virus, our systems were also infected with another, different virus. Our best scientist, Gaius Baltar has worked on the virus for the past two days. He says that the virus was specifically designed to counter what the Cylon virus did."

"A virus fighting another virus sir? And it won?" Adama asked unsure. If there was one area you never wanted to fight the Cylons, it was inside a computer.

"I was puzzled by this information the same as you are now, Commander. I was even more puzzled when they told me there was a message imbedded inside."

"A message sir? What kind of message?"

"You are welcome."

"I'm welcome with what sir?"

"No, the message says – you… are… welcome."

"Oh, now I get it. Who's the comedian?"

"Well, that's the problem. One of our ships was able to pinpoint the location from where the virus had originated. When the ship reached it, the thing that sent the virus simply blew up."

"A satellite sir?"

"Something like that, yes, but the strange thing is that our people were able to retrieve a few pieces of the satellite or whatever it was and the metallurgical analysis showed the material used to build it isn't anything we've ever seen."

"The Cylons sir? No, that doesn't make any sense either." Adama corrected himself even before the admiral could reply.

"Someone sent as a virus that has probably saved our entire race Commander, and they did it with knowledge about viruses far beyond our own, and apparently far beyond even the Cylons."

"That is a frightening thought, but that still doesn't help us understand who sent the virus."

"We believe we know who, although we do not know why they didn't do it in person."

"Who?"

"The Thirteenth Colony, Commander. That's the only explanation we could find."

"The Thirteenth Colony is only a myth, sir."

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it's just politics."

"Politics sir?"

"Commander Adama, your mission will be to search for the Thirteenth Colony."

"My mission, sir?" This was getting better and better.

"Yes Commander. The _Galactica_ and two other battlestars are to depart in two months on your mission to find the lost tribe. Your job Commander is to find Earth. Unfortunately, I can't give you any of our strongest warships because they are needed here, so you'll have to do with the _Pegasus_ and Colombia as support."

'_What the frak is he talking about? Those are the strongest, mercury class, battlestars in the fleet!'_ Adama thought.

Nagala noticed the dumbfounded expression on Adama's face, "I meant the _old Pegasus_ and _Columbia_."

'_What the frak is he talking about? Those decommissioned ships are flying coffins!' _Adama thought.

Nagala watched the Commander change color once again. "I know Commander, they are old birds, but once refitted, they will be more than capable for the mission."

"I'm not certain about that, sir. The _Galactica_ is in bad shape, but the _Pegasus_ for instance has been decommissioned ten years ago. There is no way that ship can fly after only two months of repairs."

"I'm sorry, Commander, but those are the direct orders from president Adar," Nagala said, pausing for a moment. "And there is more."

"More sir?"

Nagala sighed. He knew this would be the final blow, "You are not going alone, Commander. There will be more than a hundred civilian vessels in your fleet."

"Civilian vessels, sir? What the frak… I'm sorry sir, but…"

"No need to apologize, Admiral. It was my exact reaction when the president told me."

"Why did you call me _admiral_… sir?"

"Because if you are to lead a fleet, then you must be an admiral. The least I can do is to promote you to that rank. I know it isn't much, given the circumstances, but…"

"Thank you, sir, but I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around this. And I still don't understand you remark about politics being behind this."

Again, Nagala sighed. "As you already know, eighty percent of our government was wiped out during the attack on Caprica. Thankfully, our _beloved_ president was not on the planet when that happened," Nagala said, emphasizing the 'beloved' part. They all thought the president was a moron. "Anyways, it turns out that, after him, the highest ranking member of our surviving government is the Secretary of Education Roslin. Adar placed her as his vice president, and then ordered her to be the one to lead the 70,000 people on this mission to find the Thirteenth Colony. This way, she's out of the picture, and he doesn't have to nominate another vice president the Quorum of Twelve would most certainly demand otherwise."

"From Adar's perspective this probably makes sense, but why sent so many civilians?"

"Actually, I agree with the president on this second part. _Not _with the amount of military assets though."

"Why?"

"Adama, we are sending so many because we don't know if we will win against the Cylons."

Even Adama could see the reason behind it now. They needed to save at least enough people to be able to recreate the human race if the Cylons were able to win the war, and there was no certainty they would be able to repel the attack. "Admiral, I understand, and I can even agree with the need to safeguard our future as a race, but a hundred civilian ships and only three old battlestars to watch over them. I'm not sure _we _will be the one who'll survive."

"I understand Admiral, and as I've already said, I agree, but I simply don't have more resources to repair more than three ships, and I don't have any other ships I can give you, not if we want to win this war."

Adama knew there was nothing more he could do or say to make things better, "Then, if that is all, I would like to return to my ship and begin repairs immediately."

"Of course. And Bill…" Nagala said, pausing to wait for Adama to turn, "I promise you, the people on Picon Anchorage will work twenty-five seven to restore those ships."

"Thank you Admiral," Adama said, but he knew two months was not a lot of time to get decommissioned ships back into service. The next moment, he left the room. He had a lot of work to do and very little time to do it.

"What the frak happened?" Three shouted as she walked in one of the countless room aboard the baseships, the room where Six was. "I thought you infiltrated the Colonial military?"

"I did," Six replied in defense. "It should have worked."

"Well, it didn't," Three replied angrily.

"It's not Caprica's fault," Five said as he entered the room. "The Colonials had help."

"What kind of help?" Six asked, in a way relieved she wasn't guilty for the failure.

"I heard from one of my copies there was another virus in the system that systematically undid everything our virus was doing to corrupt their systems."

"The Colonials do not have anything that can fight our viruses. They never did," Three stated as a matter of fact.

"It wasn't the Colonials. They believe it were humans from the Thirteenth Colony," Five replied.

"We very well know it couldn't have been the Thirteenth Colony," Six said.

"The Colonials are also debating if they even exist and not just as a myth. Are we certain this isn't some kind of deception concocted by the Colonials?" Three asked, reluctant to even think of the possibility of outside help.

"I don't believe it's a deception. The Colonials are not certain either, but they are already planning to send someone to first find them and then make contact with them and ask for help," Five replied.

"This could be bad for us. Not only we were unable to destroy the Colonial Fleet, but we could also be facing an enemy that we know nothing about," Three said, worriedly.

"We must stop the Colonials from finding whoever helped them," Five said.

"Agreed, but we have to worry about the Colonials here too. They will now bring their full military might to the front. Their entire industry is now dedicated to only one purpose; building new warships."

"We have already planned in case our initial plan of disabling their ships didn't work. It simply won't be that easy as we thought it would be." Five replied. "Caprica is in rubble, the seat of their power, and with it they have lost the biggest industrial base of the twelve worlds."

"You are forgetting Picon is their military headquarter and that Picon Anchorage is their biggest shipyard. And now that we lost the element of surprise, there is no chance we can destroy it without losing half the fleet," Three said.

"It is your fault we went for Caprica with most of our fleet instead of Picon, as we should have," Five retorted.

"It's nobody's fault. Our plan was stopped by an unknown force. We couldn't have predicted that," Six added.

"Caprica is right. Blaming each other won't solve anything. We need to keep pressuring the Colonials with raid attacks until we can replenish what we've lost. And we also need to send a battle group to stop the Colonials from finding help," Three said.

"Agreed," Five replied.

As Six as well agreed with the plan of action, they all left the room on their way to their respective duties.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They are always appreciated. **_


	2. Departure

_**Author's note:** Here comes the second chapter of the spin-off. I won't reply to all reviews because there had been many and because it would probably be longer than the story in this chapter. I have read them though and noticed a few asking at what stage the Tau'ri are (which I call Terrans, rightfully, since I'm not sure any race would ever take the name given to them by their enemies). To them, the only thing I can say is that if they want to know, they need to read my other stories, because I won't try to sum up more than 500.000 words in this story._

_**Reviews:** _

_**45jacky:** Sorry about that. It's been a long time since I watched the first episode and didn't remember that detail._

_**jimbeamer5:** No, against the threats at large it wouldn't, but a few more ships would be a good addition if the Cylons attack them._

_**orionostro:** the Cylons would get a nasty surprise if faced by the Terrans, but the Terrana at the moment have other things to worry and have no intention to join this particular war. And rightfully so. They are not here to fix every screw up in the galaxy._

_**pking10:** this story will be mainly about the Colonials and Cylons, but there will be elements of the SG universe changing the course of events from the original show. Although no Ori here._

_**DaemontheSecond** There will be a smack down, probably, but much later though. This story is also about spooks and covert actions, more than direct involvement... and it will definitely be about misunderstandings on all side, all involved making wrong assumptions. In short, no body will know who's exactly who and what any side really wants._

_**monbade:** Thanks, it could give me some good ideas to use later, especially about some new type of ships built by the Colonials._

_**Nedy Rahn:** Well, I was really bored when I started writing the first chapter (it is actually why I started writing it, being bored I mean) that I had to change the beginning. Besides, just copying the entire original scene didn't sit well with me. I had to change something to make it my own._

_**darkplayer35:** well, I had to find a way to help the colonials covertly, so why not exploit the same weakness the Cylons were going to use. _

_**Thanks to my beta for helping out, and thanks to you for reading my story. Hope you'll like this chapter too.**_

* * *

Adama entered the hangar bay in search for the Chief. The two months deadline, spent in its entirety moored on Picon Anchorage, was almost up and they still had a lot of work to do if they wanted for their _old gals_, the original battlestars from the first war to be fully ready for the long journey. Adama still didn't like it. Three battlestars had quickly turned out into two from the moment they had examined the _Pegasus_. The ship was in such a bad shape, with most of its systems stripped away, that even if they had a year they would still come out short. Adama had to beg and bribe, almost threatening to defy orders if they didn't give him something else to replace the ship. In the end, Admiral Nagala conceded that if he could find some other ship in the graveyard, where all retired ships went when their time was up, he could take it and he would provide the crews for manning them.

Adama had spent an entire week searching the graveyard in order to find something that was salvageable. He found three old defender class warships used as support in the first war. They had been decommissioned last year and they'd looked at least salvageable and with most of their system still on board. The ships were mere five hundred meters in length, and they could not be compared to a battlestar, not even to a Valkyrie, but their heavy cannons would be of great use to him. The only problem was that the ships were almost defenseless against raiders, with very little in term of flak cannons.

"Chief!" Adama called as he noticed the Chief working on one of the Mark II vipers. "How are we doing?"

"Not bad, but not good either. If we could have three more weeks we could finish everything, but…"

"Chief, you have a week, that's all. We need to depart by then," Adama replied.

"Then, if I may, I suggest we work on what we can't rebuild once we leave. The rest we'll have to leave for later."

"Care to elaborate?" Adama asked. He didn't know what the Chief meant exactly.

"The two battlestars have been equipped with a complete manufacturing line for practically everything we might need to build. We can even build new raptors and vipers if necessary, although not at at very fast pace, as well as spare parts for our capital ships, granted we have enough raw materials. The only things we can't do are build our major systems if they break completely, like the FTL drives, sublight, and the main reactors. I would like for them to be completely ready and tested before we leave."

"I would very much like for those to be ready and tested before we leave as well. How are we standing with our raptors and vipers?"

"Each battlestar has twenty five raptors and a hundred plus vipers, but more than half of those are the old mark II."

"I'm not worried about the type. I'm more worried we don't have the full complement of vipers as we were promised." Adama said, thinking of Nagala's promise to refit them with everything they needed, but then it turned out they would get only fifty Mark VII vipers in total for both battlestars. It was then that Adama told the admiral that he would take the old viper Mark II from cold storage. It was better than nothing, and Adama knew what the Mark II could do and how they were far from being bad birds. The pilots would just need to relearn how to pilot them properly, without all the electronics they got used to with the latest models.

Saul Tigh approached Adama from behind, "Admiral, the civilian fleet is all here."

"What have we got there?" Adama asked.

"Not what you expected, that's for sure. From hundred ships in the civilian fleet, only five have any kind of point defense capability, and you wouldn't believe what kind of ships are going with us," Tigh said, giving Adama the list of ships.

Adama looked at the list, his eyes growing larger and larger as he read it. "They must be joking. _Cloud Nine_! For frak sake!"

"They are sending a luxury liner; can you believe it?" Tigh said, laughing in derision.

"Where do these people think they are going? A vacation?" Adama asked. "That ship is made from glass, for frak sake!"

"Apparently our guests want to be comfortable on this voyage," Tigh replied.

"_Colonial One_?" Adama said, puzzled as he read the list further.

"Yeah, the ship our vice president is on," Tigh answered. Technically it should be called Colonial Two, but since they're going far, far away, there won't be mistakes with the names of the president and vice president's ship.

Adama was plastered. Those ships could not take one missile without breaking apart. "Well, is there frakking life."

As Adama replied, an alarm started blaring throughout the hangar. Adama moved to the nearest phone, "What is it? Alright, I'll be there in a minute."

"What is it?" Tigh asked.

"The Cylons are here," Adama replied, not too happy.

Both Tigh and Adama moved out of the hangar bay on their way to the bridge. It took them a few more minutes to reach it. "Lt. Gaeta. What do we have?"

"Fifteen baseships on DRADIS, sir. They are launching raiders."

Adama watched the DRADIS screen intently. "They are going for the civilian fleet."

"Do we launch alert vipers?" Tigh asked.

"Sir, Admiral Nagala's on the line," Gaeta said.

Adama took the phone, "Adama here… yes sir… we are not ready sir… I understand sir. Adama out," Adama turned to his XO. "We are leaving. Dee, notify the rest of the fleet to undock from the Anchorage and to regroup with the civilian fleet. The Admiral will provide us cover until we are gone."

"Yes sir," Dualla replied.

With orders having been given, the _Galactica_ and the nearby _Columbia_ began moving away from their berths, quickly turning their noses away from the Anchorage, while the three smaller defenders were already half way there to reach the civilian fleet. Their maneuverability and acceleration were quite better than of the two old gals.

Meanwhile, ten Mercury class battlestars, led by the _Atlantea,_ and their escorts were taking position between the civilian fleet and the Cylon baseships already in the process of spewing raiders and heavy raiders in the thousands, as well as launching missiles in the hundreds. Picon Anchorage as well turned its long range guns to bear on the offending Cylon fleet, with alert vipers constantly being launched. The ten battlestars turned their broadsides toward the Cylon fleet, firing with their flak cannons in a purely defensive manner, intercepting missiles and raiders alike.

One nuclear missile struck the Mercury class _Pegasus_ ship straight in the middle, the blast momentarily blanking the DRADIS system on all ships while doing considerable damage to the ship's hull, but it was far from enough to disable a battlestar like the _Pegasus_. As Adama's fleet was finally all in one place, ready to jump, five of the ten battlestars began to turn in order to bring their frontal cannons to bear at the Cylon baseships. So far they were playing defensively, but with the fleet ready to leave it was time to show the Cylons the true might of the Mercury class battlestars.

"Sir, the fleet is ready to jump," Gaeta said.

"Set the clock. Lt. Gaeta."

Gaeta, for the second time since he took this post aboard the _Galactica _three years ago, set the cloak and inserted the encrypted Jump Key in his apposite keyhole. Once the clock had reached zero, he turned the key. The spooled jump drive began humming louder and louder, with the crew beginning to feel the strange sensation of space around them expanding, a feeling nobody liked, but it was always felt when the jump drive was used.

One after the other, ships in Adama's fleet blinked out of existence, leaving only empty space behind.

* * *

One after the other, in the same way as they had disappeared, the Fleet reappeared back in the void of space, approximately three light years from Helios Alpha.

"Jump completed successfully, sir. DRADIS confirms the fleet is all here," Gaeta said.

"Thank you Lt. Gaeta. Saul, did we have everything on board when we jumped?" the Admiral asked.

"All supplies were already on board for the past two weeks. Although, I suspect we have a few systems still half finished, especially on the Delphi. She was in the worst shape of all three defender class ships. I was surprised the ship was able to jump with us. They've been bitching about their FTL for the last month constantly."

"Set Condition Three throughout the Fleet Lt. Gaeta, and calculate the next jump coordinates. I want to be ready if the Cylon decide to show up."

"Yes sir, it will take half an hour to make the calculations for the next jump," Gaeta replied.

"Good. XO, find out if we have some of the crew from the Anchorage still on board, and if we do, we'll send them back with raptors."

"On it."

"I think it's time I invite the vice president to set some ground rules."

* * *

On board the raptor tasked with the transport of the vice president, Gaius Baltar was half dreaming, half listening to what vice president Laura Roslin and her aide were saying. He was still under shock after what had happened. He was a traitor, he was the man who had allowed access to the military mainframe to a Cylon woman, and that almost resulted in the complete destruction of their entire race. Only divine intervention saved them all, and only the destruction of the capitol on Caprica saved _him_ from being executed once found guilty of conspiring with the Cylons. All records had been destroyed in one of the many massive nuclear blasts that had ravaged his beloved planet, and it would take a lot of time to piece everything together and with certainty determine that he indeed had given access to the Cylons. But Baltar also feared it was inevitable.

When he heard of the expedition to find the Thirteenth Colony, he knew it was his only chance if he didn't want to end up dead. He knew the expedition would need scientists and he knew the vice president would also need an advisor on everything science related. It wasn't difficult with his connection with Adar to quickly get a ticket. And he wanted nothing more than to be as far as possible from the Twelve Colonies when they found out what he did. Here at least he was safe; at least for now.

As the raptor docked with the _Galactica_, Baltar waited until Laura Roslin and her aide, Billy, moved past him, before following them outside the craft. They were quickly brought in a small conference room where they and the admiral could discuss a few points.

Just as everybody sat around the table, the admiral entered the room, "Thank you for coming, Madam Vice President."

"Thank you for having us, Admiral. Although, I was under the impression we were not scheduled to depart for another week. Did the Cylon attack have anything to do with our premature departure?"

"Yes, Madam Vice President. It was a direct order from the admiralty. They felt it wasn't safe there for so many civilian ships, but frankly I don't see how it is any safer here."

"I see. Do you believe the Cylons will follow us?" Roslin asked. Something was definitely alarming the admiral.

"I'm certain they will. They attacked the civilian fleet and not the Anchorage, which is bad tactic if anyone asks me; except of course if your goal _is_ to target that fleet specifically."

"Why would they do that?" Roslin asked.

"The only explanation I can think of is that they wanted to cause as much damage as they could so we would have to postpone our departure or give up entirely."

"That does make sense, but then this also means they knew we were preparing to go search for the Lost Tribe. How could they have known?"

"Madam Vice President, after the Cylon first attack, we have started to reacquire all military assets that had previously been decommissioned. Among those, we searched the old Ragnor space station that served as a weapons depot. There we found a human that was suffering from the effects of the nebula. It didn't take us long to understand that _that_ man wasn't a man at all, but a human form Cylon," Adama said.

Hearing this, Baltar decided to shrink in his chair as much as possible. Maybe they wouldn't ask him anything about that.

"My gods! Are you saying that there are Cylons looking like us?" Roslin asked, incredulously.

"Apparently, there are."

"Doctor Baltar, is that possible?" Roslin asked her designated genius.

"I… I don't know. I suppose it is possible… maybe it could even explain how they knew about our mission to find the Thirteenth Colony. I mean, that is if they have spies among us… but we can't be certain about anything at this point," Baltar replied, not really liking the direction this conversation was going.

"If they have Cylons looking like us, they could have easily infiltrated every branch of the government, military… on _all_ our colonies," Roslin said.

"My current concern is not the Twelve Colonies, Madam Vice President, but this fleet," Adama replied. "Doctor, is there a way to test people to see if they are Cylons?"

"I… I don't know, I would have to make tests, but I don't have any subject to work with."

"You have, Doctor. The one that called himself Leoben is here. Or at least his body is."

"That… that would be of great help… yes, but I still can't give you guarantees. You see," Baltar began explaining, not actually wanting to do this, but Adama stopped him.

"That's enough for me, Doctor. You'll have a lab on the _Galactica_ were you can start testing," Adama said, turning to face Roslin. "Madam Vice President, I'm not here to tell you how to run the civilian fleet, but I would like to make one thing clear."

"Oh, and what would that be, Admiral." Roslin said, smiling. She already knew what he wanted to say.

"I would like to make it clear that all military decisions are under my purview," Adama said.

"I agree, Admiral. I'm not here to interfere with any decision in regard to the safety of the fleet," Roslin replied, smiling.

"Good," Adama said, getting up. "And also if maybe you could tell me what you did to get this job."

Roslin was surprised. The admiral was more insightful than she thought. Of course, Adar had _promoted _her to vice president so that he could send her on this mission. This way he got rid of her and he also wouldn't have to appoint anyone else as vice president back home. And their private relation, which didn't end very amicably the last time they met, just before the attack, didn't help at all, "Maybe I will, Admiral."

"What is the plan to find Earth, Admiral," Gaius asked. "I mean, are we going to jump to every single system until we find something… because if this is the case, it could take a while."

"You're right, Doctor. It will take a while. We have no real knowledge of where Earth is. The only thing we know is that the Thirteenth Colony left Kobol three thousand years ago. So, we are going to find Kobol first and see where that takes us."

"Kobol? Do we know where Kobol is?" Gaius asked.

"No, we don't. We only have a general idea where it is. If that is all, I would like to return to my duties."

"That's all, Admiral, thank you," Roslin said.

"Doctor, as soon as possible, I would like for you to begin working on the Cylon detector."

"Of course, of course; as soon as possible, yes."

* * *

Through one of the endless number of corridors on board the _Galactica_, two men strolled through them, with no real destination in mind.

"Strange bunch this Colonials, don't you think?" the first man asked.

"Why you think they are strange?" the second asked.

"Well, for one they are sending almost seventy thousands of their people on a goose chase with only five old warships to protect - _how many?_ - a hundred civilian ships?"

"Yeah, not something we would have done. I think there's some politics involved, but that's not my problem."

"Well, it is since we are stuck here. And for how long?"

"Probably years with the speed we are crawling through space. By the way, do you know how our people managed to falsify our credentials?"

"Not really, no, but I don't think it was that difficult. When you have cloaking capabilities, you can easily land a raptor anywhere on a planet, and when to get complete access to their, let's call them _computer _systems you only need an Asgard thumb drive, I really don't think it was that difficult."

"Yeah, probably right about that. So, where did they put you?"

"I'm under Chief Tyrol. You?"

"I'm one of the marines stationed here on the _Galactica_."

"You always get the cool jobs."

"That's true. I'm lucky that way. But you actually got the job that will get the most intel."

"How you gather that?"

"Oh come on. Everybody knows that sooner or later rumors always reach the workers in the hangars. They always know everything that happens on a ship."

"That's true. I'm a little worried about our nanites in our blood though. Why they wanted to inject us with them before the mission I really can't understand it. We are already Hak'taur."

"Hak'taur? Why can't you simply say advanced humans?"

"It sounds cooler. Although, soon, every Terran will be an advanced human so you'll just have to say Terran, and you'll know."

"And why you are worried about the nanites? They gave us those injections so we would be faster, stronger, unable to be brainwashed, and of course heal more quickly if injured. It's a great advantage to have."

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

"They are starting some project to test people if they are Cylons. Don't you think they'll detect the nanites?"

"No, I don't. They'll probably test your blood, and there are no nanites in your blood stream. The nanites use the vascular system only to travel through the body, but they are for the most part located in your muscles, brain and other organs."

"So, what if they get your blood out while those nanites travel from one organ to the other?"

"That is a good question. I really don't know."

"Well, I don't think they can test every man and woman in the entire fleet. It would take too long for that; years probably. Let's hope we won't be among those being tested first."

"Yes, let's."

"Do you know of any other agent in the fleet except us, or are we alone?"

"Oh, I think there are more of us lurking around. There are probably agents on every warship and probably many more in the civilian fleet, but for security reasons we don't know who they are. You know, if we get caught…"

"Let's not think of getting caught and let's start doing our job. We are to report anything related to this human form Cylons we can find," Joshua, the marine, said.

"Are we to help them?" Malcolm, the mechanic, asked.

"If we can, without blowing our cover, then yes. But that's not our mission, remember that."

"Alright. Not that I can do much, except fixing their vipers when they get damaged."

"Yeah, well, they'll need all the help they can get. Can you imagine their fighters don't have inertial dampeners? I mean, those pilots are feeling the entire Gee force at every turn they make."

"Yeah, one of_ our _vipers would outmaneuver them like they were standing still."

"Yeah, not to mention one of our capital ships against a battlestar like _Galactica_."

"Still, as much as they are maneuverable, I wouldn't get near one of these battlestars with _our_ vipers. With so many flak cannons they would get shredded in seconds."

"That's true. The top brass is also concerned about their FTL drive."

"Concerned? Why? They are so slow compared to our hyperdrives."

"They are not worried about that. They are worried about the Cylon raiders making suicide jumps at our capital ships, that way bypassing our shields."

"They cannot possibly be able to jump inside the shield's envelope while the ship is on the move. It's impossible to make such precise calculations before a ship changes position in space. Isn't it?"

"Yeah, if you have one raider trying, but what if you have hundreds or thousands of them jumping? One of them could jump inside our ships by sheer luck."

"That's not a very nice prospect. Do you think our people will be able to block their jumping ability inside our ships?"

"Eventually, probably, I don't know. Those scientists of ours are nuts. They'll cram up something sooner or later, I'm sure of it, but that is also the reason we need to get our hands on one of those raiders and scan it. Their jump drives are far more advanced than those of the Colonials."

"Well, that's why I'm working under the Chief, isn't it?"

"Exactly."

"All right, I'm going back to work. See you tomorrow."

"See ya."

The two Terrans split on the next intersection, going their separate ways. While Malcolm was going to the hangar, Joshua was going back to his quarters. He needed to make his daily contact with the _Prometheus_ using his Walkman that wasn't just a simple boom box, but instead a subspace comm. device. The only problem was that most of the time he wasn't alone in his shared room. There was not much privacy on the _Galactica_, but he would find a few minutes alone, enough to deliver the latest.

* * *

It hadn't been easy for Adar. The attack had brought massive destruction and great loss of life to the colonies. The latest report was talking about two billion people having been killed in the initial attack, mostly from his home planet Caprica and from Geminon. The planets were in ruins, and to make things worse the Cylons were still making sudden raids while keeping a constant presence in orbit of both planets, probably to hamper their efforts of rescuing the survivors still on the ground. The most he could do was to send small cargo ships that would quickly drop supplies before bugging out before a raider would show up. And he knew it was far from enough for the people still on the ground.

To make the situation utterly screwed up, elections were around the corner, and the chance of him being reelected after such massive attack by the Cylons during his first mandate was a long shot at best. People were claiming his policy of constantly diminishing the military expenditure in the last ten years was what had cost them so much death and destruction. Nobody cared that the Cylons hadn't showed up even once in the past forty years, and that it was ludicrous to spend so much money for the military after forty years of peace.

After the attack he had to find a way to somehow turn the situation in his favor. The first thing he had done was to promote the secretary of education to be his vice president, and then he had sent her away. This way he wouldn't have to worry about the vice president dictating policy, with of course a political agenda of her own. He could turn the public in his favor more freely now that the vice president was far away and out of reach, and he also didn't have to place somebody else as the vice president.

Adar's musing was suddenly interrupted when someone knocked on the door. "Enter."

Admiral Nagala entered the president's office. "Mr. President, You asked to see me?"

"Yes Admiral. Please, take a seat," the president said absentmindedly as he continued fake-reading the document in front of him. After Nagala sat on the chair in front of him, the president stopped looking at the document and looked at the admiral. "Admiral, can you tell me what the situation with our military is?"

The admiral sighed. "Sir, most of our fleet is in good shape. We've lost ten battlestars and a dozen support ships, but the thing that has hurt us the most is the loss of the industrial might of Caprica and the shipyards and defenses in orbit. Also, the Scorpion shipyard has been badly damaged and it will take at least half a year to fully repair it; and that is only if the Cylons don't attack the shipyard again in the meantime."

"What are the Cylons doing? It appears to me they have quieted down with their attacks."

"It appears they were a little disappointed when our ships didn't simply stop working, but I also think this is only a short breathing moment until they regroup their forces."

"I'm inclined to agree. Now, the thing that I most want to know is, can we free Caprica and keep it that way, Admiral." He didn't mention Geminon on purpose because he had no intention on freeing that planet. He was actually pleased those religious freaks got hammered, and the planet being under Cylon control was actually a blessing. Caprica not so much though.

"I wouldn't advise it Mr. President. Caprica has lost all orbital defenses, the few they had, which means that even if we were to send a large fleet, we would have to keep it there for the conceivable future, at least until defenses can be built again, which is strategically a bad move. It would diminish our mobility and the ability to defend our other worlds, and it would definitely preclude any possibility to go on the offensive. Mr. President, sooner or later we will have to take the fight to them and that means having a large fleet capable of canvasing their region of space."

Adar didn't like it. The liberation of Caprica would give him the needed political capital to win the next elections. He knew that in three months, whoever was going to run against him would play on the fact that he still hadn't been able to free Caprica or Geminon. "I understand Admiral. Still, I would like to come up with a plan to retake Caprica with the minimal number of military units."

"As I said Mr. President, such fleet and the troops would need to remain on the planet to protect it and…"

"No Admiral, I just want a fleet that is able to keep the planet free for a short time."

Nagala stopped in his tracks, thinking of what was the president suggesting, until it finally dawned to him. The president wanted the bare minimum to take control of Caprica, probably a few days or a week before the elections. Once he won the elections, he would simply retreat the fleet before the Cylons attacked Caprica en masse, again occupying the planet. Nagala had to admit, it was a good plan… for being reelected! But it wasn't a good plan for the people still on Caprica and in dire need of help. Furthermore the president would probably postpone any evacuation of the planet because it could give his opposition clues on what he was planning to do. All this meant that the people on Caprica would inevitably be under the Cylons once more the moment the fleet retreated.

"Of course, sir, I'll get right on it," Nagala said, knowing there was no reason to argue. The only thing he could get would be getting replaced by someone who would see the president's plan as a very good one. "What about Admiral Adama's fleet sir."

"What about it?"

Again, Nagala didn't like the fact that they had sent a fleet with almost seventy thousand people protected by only two old battlestars and three destroyers. There was no way five ships could efficiently protect a fleet composed of a hundred civilian ships. "Mr. President, it's still not too late to send more units to support that fleet."

"You just told me there's no way we have enough ships to retake Caprica and now you want me to send more ships on what is probably the longest journey in Colonial history?"

"A few ships will not make any difference to us, but it could make the difference for them."

"No, every ship counts. Besides, the Cylons won't go after them. They will fight us here."

Nagala wasn't of the same opinion. "Sir, the attack on the civilian fleet the moment it arrived at Picon Anchorage would suggest otherwise."

"They attacked Picon Anchorage. The fleet being there was just a fluke the Cylons took advantage of to kill as many Colonials as they could."

Again Nagala wasn't of the same opinion. The Cylons had attacked the civilian vessels, completely disregarding the Anchorage. In his opinion it meant they wanted to stop the fleet before it even left the system. Maybe it was because they were afraid what would happen if they found the Thirteenth Colony. Still, Nagala knew he shouldn't push the issue since he was more than certain the president had made up his mind. There was probably some political reason for sending the vice president as far away as possible. It had been a strange move to promote the Secretary of Education Roslin to be his vice president, but it was even stranger to have her sent away. "Of course sir. If that is all, I would like to return to my duties."

"Of course, Admiral. Keep me informed if anything changes in the Cylons' behavior."

"I will Mr. President," Nagala said, getting up and quickly leaving the room.

Adar knew Nagala wasn't an idiot, and that he probably knew what was going on, but for now, the admiral had been a good soldier and followed orders; just the way it should be.

For now it would have to be enough.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They are always appreciated.**_


	3. Chase

**_Reviews:_**

**_Sigh: _**_?_

**_mal: _**_was this meant more as a negative comment directed at my other story? Hmm..._

**_ljbrown1:_**_ Good, because it will continue in that direction._

**_Oddliver: _**_It will, with time._

**_45jacky: _**_answer inside this chapter._

**_Thanks to my beta, and hope you like this chapter as well._**

* * *

Adama was looking at the clock slowly counting backwards toward zero. The Cylons were showing up every thirty three minutes, and they'd done so for the past day and a half, with the fleet barely able to jump away before being overwhelmed by the three Cylon baseships and their raiders. Adama was more than aware the Cylons were somehow tracking them, and he was even more aware of the fact that, if they wanted, they could have jumped much faster than the fleet could ever hope to jump away.

"Saul, do you have any idea why they are waiting 33 minutes before jumping? If they can track the fleet, and by now we know they can, why not jump before we can jump away? Why wait?" Adama asked his XO.

"Don't know what to tell you, Bill. Maybe they are trying to wear us down so we would make a mistake," Saul replied.

"That's what I'm afraid of. We are getting slower with each attempt. Sooner or later we _will_ make a mistake, and they'll be on top of us when we are the most tired."

"Hm, that's true, but what can we do if this doesn't work?" Saul asked.

Adama was thoughtful. The Cylons didn't have enough ships for a decisive victory, but soon they'd be so tired that even with what the Cylons have, it would be a miracle if they survived. "Let's hope that this _will _work."

Saul nodded as the clock reached zero. "I hope so too, Bill."

"DRADIS contact! Three Cylon baseships; they are launching raiders," Gaeta said, the moment they emerged.

"Launch all vipers. Position the _Galactica_ and the _Columbia_ with their broadsides facing the approaching raiders," Adama ordered.

As the two battlestars took position facing the approaching enemy with as many flak cannons as physically possible, the vipers began exiting the hangars.

Adama waited while the vipers took their positions away from the firing arc of the battlestars' flak cannons and the raiders that were just entering inside weapons range, "Open fire, all batteries!"

More than a hundred flak cannons on the starboard side alone, opened fire at the hundreds upon hundreds of raiders. The vipers as well went in, engaging the raiders, but still keeping away from the firing arcs coming from the battlestars. The three baseships were also converging and slowly entering weapons range of their own.

"Sir, the baseships are opening fire. Dozens of incoming missiles from each capital ship," Gaeta said.

"Bill, it is now or never," Saul said.

"Not yet," Adama said watching the DRADIS screen. He waited a little longer before giving the order, "Now! Send the signal now!"

Only seconds later, the three destroyers jumped behind the three Cylon baseships, with almost forty raptors doing the same. Without waiting, the three destroyers opened fire from their frontal main cannons, all directed at the closest of the three baseships, while the raptors unleashed a barrage of missiles. Explosions rocked the much larger baseship, quickly crippling it, but by now the other two baseships were already moving towards them while leaving their fight against the battlestars and instead engaging the newly found enemy on the opposite side. Also, the greatest advantage of the baseships was that they didn't need to turn to face their enemy, no matter where their ships were facing.

"The closest baseship has sustained heavy damage. The other two baseships are converging on the destroyers," Gaeta said.

"Bill, those destroyers won't last long against those baseships," Saul said.

"I know, but we must destroy at least one of them," Adama replied.

"Sir, the raiders are going for the civilian fleet," Gaeta reported with urgency.

"Dee! Order the civilian fleet to jump to the rendezvous point," Adama ordered.

"Yes sir," Duala replied, sending the signal. "Fleet is jumping away."

"Good. Gaeta, tell all vipers to dock. We are leaving as well," Adama said, while still watching the DRADIS. The destroyers were getting a beating.

"All vipers are on board sir," Gaeta said.

"Order all remaining units to jump," Adama ordered.

Dee sent the signal and only seconds later, the battlestars, raptors and destroyers began jumping.

The _Galactica_ reappeared at the rendezvous coordinates.

"Status of the fleet?" Adama asked.

"Civilian fleet is all accounted for, raptors are all here, except two that had been destroyed and… only two destroyers are here. The _Delphi_ is not here, sir," Gaeta replied.

Adama cursed inwardly. Since the beginning of their journey, the _Delphi_ had trouble with her FTL drive. In many occasions they had to postpone the jump because the _Delphi_ wouldn't be able to make it, "Frak!"

"They are still not lost, Bill. They could still make it," Saul said.

Adama didn't say anything, waiting while also wanting nothing more than for Saul to be right, but when two more minutes passed by, without the _Delphi _showing up, he knew the chances just went down from slim to none, "Frak!"

"Frak indeed," Saul added.

There was nothing else they could do, "Did we at least get the one baseship?"

"The _Aquila_ just sent us a message. She was the last to jump except for the _Delphi_, and the baseship was still in one piece, but barely."

"Frak, Bill! They'll probably be able to repair it," Saul said.

"They probably will, but maybe it will give us the time we need. Still, calculate the next jump coordinates as quickly as possible," Adama said, thinking if there was anything else he could do. "We must find out how they are able to track us."

"How?" Saul asked.

"I want you to bring me that self-proclaimed genius Gaius Baltar. He had enough time to come up with a way to detect a Cylon."

"On it, Bill," Saul replied, leaving the CIC the next moment.

* * *

Baltar was in trouble. He had promised the Cylon detector to vice president Roslin and admiral Adama, but he didn't have a clue how to make it. And time was running out. He wasn't that preoccupied about Roslin as much as about Adama who, in his not so humble opinion, would have no problem tossing him out of an airlock if he thought he wasn't useful to him anymore.

"Gaius, you look preoccupied," the Six nobody else could see said to him.

Gaius turned seeing the woman standing next to him, "Of course I'm preoccupied! I need to get the Cylon detector ready and I've barely started."

"Hm… yes, it does sound like a problem. But maybe you don't need the detector."

"What do you mean?" Gaius asked, puzzled.

Six smiled, nodding in the direction of the DRADIS console, "What do you see there?"

Gaius turned, looking intently at the DRADIS console five meters in front of him. On top of it, he noticed a strange device; a very _familiar_ device. Realization struck him like a wet towel. He finally remembered when he had seen that same kind of device. It was when Six came to his house. She had the same device in her briefcase.

"What does it do?" Gaius asked.

"It doesn't matter Gaius; that is not what's important. The important thing is that it is Cylon in origin."

"And how does that help me exactly? I mean, it's not like I can just walk to Adama and tell him 'hey look, that's a Cylon device', can I?"

"That's true," Six sighed. "If only you could blame somebody else for it."

Gaius saw how Six was looking in the direction of a reporter standing near the DRADIS console. He could serve as the perfect man to blame, Cylon or no Cylon. And who cares about a reporter who somehow got a ticket to be with the Expeditionary Fleet. He was the least useful person in the fleet.

"I see what you mean," Gaius said, but then he noticed Six's frown while she was looking at one of the marines standing near the CIC's door. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing important Gaius," Six said, giving a fake smile.

Gaius noticed it, looking straight at the marine, Joshua. "Is he a Cylon too?"

"Gaius, if you start seeing Cylons everywhere, you'll lose your mind," Six said.

Gaius was about to reply something, still not satisfied with the answer she was giving him, but Adama was faster, "Doctor, are you listening to me?"

"Hm? Oh yes, Admiral, I am," Gaius quickly snapped from his little conversation with a woman nobody else could see.

"So?" Adama replied.

"I've already started testing blood samples. I'll have the first results later today."

"Good, Doctor. Let's hope this device of yours works," Adama replied not that confident in Baltar's ability to come up with a Cylon detector.

"I'd like to go back to my lab if you don't need me anymore," Gaius said. Among the samples they had already given him, he had the sample of the reporter. Non-standard crew members were to be tested first.

"Of course," Adama replied.

Even before Gaius could leave the CIC, a DRADIS alert started blaring.

"Sir, we have a contact," Gaeta said.

"Is it the Cylons," Adama asked, while thinking how it was a little strange to get only one contact.

"No sir. It's the _Delphi_," Gaeta said, clearly happy one of theirs had returned.

"They made it!" Saul added, as well glad to see the missing _Delph_i was still in one piece.

Adama on the other hand, wasn't of the same opinion, "Battle stations! Set condition two and launch alert vipers. Dee, call the fleet and tell them to be ready for an emergency jump."

"What is it, Bill?" Saul asked, a little lost. He waited for Bill's answer to come, but Adama simply continued to watch straight at the small icon on the DRADIS. "You think it's a trap?"

"The _Delphi_ was out for too long. Dee, get me a channel to the _Delphi_ ASAP."

The bridge waited, not liking the possibility that this was a trap, much less the thought of what had happened to all those people aboard the Delphi if it was.

As the connection established, Adama continued, "_Delphi_, this is Admiral Adama. Please respond."

It took a while before the reply came, "Thank the Gods you waited for us. We weren't certain if you would still be here."

Adama watched the happy faces on the bridge; all certain everything was alright with the _Delphi _and its crew. But Adama wasn't so certain. "_Delphi_, you are ordered to halt your approach and stay outside weapons range."

Adama waited for the reply that never came. "_Delphi_, confirm standing orders."

Again, there was no reply from the _Delphi_.

"What the frak!" Saul shouted in anger. "Why are they not responding?"

"Because there's no one alive on that ship Saul," Adama replied, saddened.

"But we heard them?"

"That was a recording, nothing more. The Cylons used such tactics before."

"How can we be sure?"

"We can be because the _Delphi_ is not stopping. Mr. Gaeta, tell the civilian fleet to jump to the next set of coordinates and to wait for us there."

It took a few moments before the message was received by the civilian fleet and before they jumped away.

"The civilian fleet has jumped away, sir." Gaeta replied.

"What's the status of the _Delphi_?"

"They are still on a straight intercept course with us."

"Order the vipers they are to take out the _Delphi's_ engines. Let's try to stop them before they reach us."

Apollo and Starbuck were not that happy to hear their newest orders. Apparently they were going to take out one of their own ships, or at least its engines.

"What the frak, Apollo? That's our ship over there," Starbuck said over the comm.

"Those are our orders, Kara. Now follow them," Apollo replied.

Both vipers accelerated, pushing past the much larger _Delphi_. Once they were at a fair distance behind the ship, they made a quick 180 degrees turnover in place, now facing the rear of the ship. Accelerating again, now towards the ship, they quickly reached weapons range. After a slight moment of hesitation from both pilots, two missiles from each viper streaked towards the _Delphi_. Only seconds later, all four missiles hit the ship's sublight engines.

Explosions rocked the larger ship, with the engines first flickering then quickly shutting down completely. The _Delphi_ was now moving forward only on inertia.

Meanwhile on the _Galactica_, the people inside the CIC were watching the events unfold.

"Sir, the _Delphi_ is dead in the water," Gaeta replied.

"Send a boarding party. I want to know what happened on board that ship."

"Sir! I'm detecting radiological emissions originating from the _Delphi_. The ship is preparing to launch nukes."

"Order the _Columbia_ and _Galactica_ to take defensive positions against nuclear ordinance! The two destroyers are to target and destroy the Delphi with their heavy cannons."

Orders were given and the two large battlestars turned facing the ship with their flak cannons in anticipation for the nuclear missiles that were about to be launched from the _Delphi_. At the same time the two destroyers turned their fronts facing the _Delphi_ and bringing their heavy cannons online.

The _Delphi_ fired more than a dozen missiles from its frontal ports, the missiles racing forward, towards their intended target, the two large battlestars far in the distance. Flak cannons from both battlestars suddenly came to life, creating an almost impenetrable wall of brilliant lights, dancing in the darkness of space. Space was vast and missiles were preprogramed with sophisticated evasive protocols, algorithms capable of maximizing the missile's chances of passing even through the thickest defensive fire by slightly shifting its vector in an almost unpredictable fashion. On the other hand, the battlestars' defensive fire was using its own protocols, its own algorithms in order to anticipate the missiles' trajectories and to try to box them in from multiple railguns. In the end, the two systems almost nullified each other, leaving the victor to those with greater numbers at their disposal.

And the battlestars had plenty of those.

Meanwhile the two remaining destroyers didn't stay idle. Positioning themselves on opposite sides of the two battlestars, the destroyers were bringing their big guns forth. Strong railgun systems, capable of expelling large slugs with such energy and at such speed that the slug would superheat even before leaving the barrel of the cannon.

Glowing slugs erupted from the frontal cannons of both ships at speeds by far exceeding even those of the incoming missiles. In a blink of an eye, the slugs hit the _Delphi_, each hit, shattering large chunks of the ship's frontal hull and burrowing deep into the _Delphi's_ core. The _Delphi _had been in bad shape even before this fight had begun. A dozen hits with those slugs were enough to completely destroy the front of the ship and to cause secondary explosions inside it. The ship was dead, spinning through space lifelessly.

Meanwhile, the flak cannons on the _Galactica_ and _Columbia_ were in the process of dispatching of the incoming missiles. One after the other, eleven missiles fell.

The last missile went high above the ships, where most of the cannons could not reach it, before diving down for its final leg of its journey. It already looked as if the ships wouldn't be able to stop the last nuke before it hit, but then the situation changed when a definitely crazy Starbuck suddenly showed up behind the streaking missile, diving with him. Firing short bursts from her two frontal guns, she managed to hit the last nuke after a few attempts and only a few klicks away from the _Columbia_.

It was good the nuke didn't detonate.

"Starbuck! Are you crazy?" Apollo yelled at the insubordinate pilot he very much cared for. "You could have been hit by our own cannons' fire! And if that nuke went off, you would be history now!"

"Oh come on, Apollo. I couldn't leave that nuke reach one of our ships," Kara replied through the comm., giving him a half-crazy laugh.

"Return to the _Galactica_. Oh, and Kara?"

"Yeah?"

"This conversation is not over."

"I would be disappointed if it was."

Apollo's blood pressure skyrocketed, but he said nothing. She'd just cost him at least five years of his life.

* * *

Joshua's jaw dropped by a foot when he saw Malcolm, his partner in crime, playing some kind of poker-like game with the viper pilots, drunk like a skunk. He was filled with nanites that were supposedly very good at clearing his body of any drug or other unwanted substances. To get that drunk, he must have taken a few liters of ambrosia in no more than an hour, something he couldn't believe Malcolm would do while on a mission of such importance.

It was only when Malcolm turned his head and looked at him straight in the eyes that Joshua realized the man was only faking it. There was such clarity in them that he immediately understood the man was only pretending in order to get close to these people. It wasn't strange that he was full of intel all the time. These half passed out people were probably telling him everything he wanted to know. Probably even what he didn't want to know too.

The journey so far had been weird, to say the least. Not much to do all day except waiting for the next jump to happen, more or less every 33 minutes. At least that had been the case until Gaius Baltar miraculously found out that a reporter was a Cylon and that on top of the DRADIS console there had been a Cylon device apparently responsible for the Cylons having been able to track them. After that, the jumping schedule had slowed down, with life aboard the _Galactica_ returning to its usual routine, but still with not much else to do all day. A few times, he and a few other marines had to calm down some people on a civilian ship, and a few times he'd been part of a detail intended as protection for the vice president in case they were attacked again and the Colonial One got somehow boarded. In these ten days since their departure from Picon Anchorage, there had been forty two encounters with the Cylons, which had resulted in them being able to visit no more than six star systems, and all were uninhabitable and of no value to them whatsoever.

Malcolm dropped the cards he was holding, "Well, I had enough of this game for one day."

"Oh come on! You have to give us a chance to get our money back!" one of the pilots replied.

Malcolm smiled. "I will, tomorrow."

Joshua waited patiently as Malcolm moved to where he was standing, before together moving out of the room, "Any news on any Cylon infiltration?"

"Nope, but from how I understand it, these Cylons are perfectly capable of blending in, and since it won't be possible for us to scan them, I don't think we will find them that easily. Although, the Chief _was_ acting strange today," Malcolm replied.

"Do you know why?"

"No. Maybe it was nothing."

"Okay, but keep an eye on him; just to be on a safe side."

"I will. Any news on Baltar's miraculous Cylon detector?"

"I sneaked in his lab to see it, but there was nothing there. No papers or any type of device."

"How did he then know that man was a Cylon?"

"Don't know, but I'm telling you, he didn't use any detector. Are we even sure that man _was_ a Cylon?"

"Why would he lie?"

"Don't know, but if he did, the better question is, how did he know about the Cylon device on the DRADIS console in the first place?"

"You think he used that man as a scapegoat? But that would mean that Baltar is a Cylon."

"Uhh… I don't know about that. He doesn't strike me as the Cylon type; too eccentric and self-absorbed to be one of them. If he is, he's the best actor I've ever seen. And we are trained to see those kinds of deceptions."

"Still, I'm gonna keep an eye on him. Besides, if he manages to perfect that Cylon detector, we must find out if it can detect our nanites."

"You said that it can't!"

"I said that it is unlikely, but I can't be sure. Look, I'm going to the CIC - I'm on guard duty there, again. I swear that's the most boring job ever."

Malcolm was about to reply, but the tremor they felt next, indicative of a strong explosion having taken place somewhere on the ship, stopped him from doing so. As he watched people looking around in wonder and fear, not knowing what was going on, he finally replied. "I'm going to find out were that explosion originated from."

"Go, I'm reporting to the CIC, the best place to find out what's going on."

Malcolm proceeded further down the corridor towards the hangar bay, while Joshua turned to run in the opposite direction.

Moving through several corridors, Malcolm finally reached the hangar. The first thing he noticed was the Chief standing somewhere in the middle of the hangar and barking orders to the people around him. As he stepped closer, he asked the Chief the obvious question. "Chief, what's going on?"

"The water tank exploded. We lost almost eighty percent of our water into space. Suit up. You and I are going to see what happened there."

"Sure, Chief," Malcolm replied, like on springs jumping on his way to the locker room.

Performing the fastest dressing in history, Malcolm was ready and prepped in less than five minutes, with the Chief not far behind. The two of them went to the water tank, entering inside in order to see what they were dealing with. Moving deeper inside the tank, they quickly came in front of a large hole through which they could see the void of space and the lonely raptor outside. Malcolm leaned forward, looking at the edges of the hole and at the twisted metal. It wasn't difficult to understand that this hole didn't form by itself. This definitely wasn't the result of a spontaneous breach from eroded materials or something similar. This had been done by an explosive device.

"Chief, this was deliberate. Some kind of explosive device did this," Malcolm said to the Chief standing next to him and looking at the same evidence.

The Chief had come to the same conclusion on his own. "You're right about that. This is no accident, no accident at all."

While the two of them were scrutinizing the ripped wall of the water tank, Boomer entered the tank and slowly approached the two of them. She as well was looking at the bent metal in the ship's hull. Malcolm was an intelligence agent, with years of experience behind him. So, it wasn't strange at all that he needed only a glance at Boomer's face to understand that her reaction wasn't exactly normal for such circumstance. He saw intense fear in her eyes, too much of it for the occasion. Feeling such fear and stupor wasn't the adequate reaction for someone who just saw a hole in the wall and had nothing to do with it, of that he was certain. And yet, it also wasn't the reaction of someone who was guilty.

The Chief turned, he as well noticing Boomer. Malcolm didn't know if the Chief saw the same thing in Boomer, but his next reaction left Malcolm perplexed at what was exactly going on between the two of them.

"Boomer, you don't have to be here. Let us do our job," the Chief said to the raptor pilot.

She absentmindedly continued looking at the hole in the hull, almost as if she didn't registered anything of what the Chief had just said to her. It had taken her a few more moments before she snapped from her reverie and before she looked straight at the Chief. "Sure Chief, I'll go."

As she moved back out of the water tank, Malcolm turned his gaze toward the Chief. This warranted more poking, "Chief, what was that all about? She looked like she just saw a ghost."

"Don't know, but that's not important now. Let's collect some samples to see if we can find some clues on what kind of device did this."

"Alright Chief," Malcolm replied, knowing nothing could come out of pushing it any further. The Chief was definitely hiding something, but he wasn't about to crack him by simply asking more awkward questions.

* * *

"It was sabotage. There is no doubt about it," the Chief delivered his report to Adama, in his private quarters.

"How can you be so sure?" Saul, also present, asked.

"Because we found traces of the explosive that was used and a piece of the detonator. Both are ours. We also found out there's one detonator missing from the armory on deck five," the Chief said.

"Frak! We have more Cylons on the ship, Bill. This is the only logical conclusion," Saul said to his CO.

Adama nodded in agreement before turning toward the Chief, "Chief, did you find any evidence that could shed some light on _who_ did it?"

"No, sir, and I don't think we will. There's no useful evidence in the water tank, and the armory on deck five could've been accessed by practically anyone."

"Anyone? Anyone, but only from the military," Adama half asked half concluded.

"Well, yes. Civilians don't have access to the armory. Only military personnel like marines, pilots and other officers can access those lockers. But that still leaves a lot of people."

"That's true, but the problem is that a soldier, with access to practically anywhere on the ship, is a Cylon," Adama concluded, not liking the part who the probable perpetrator was. "Thank you Chief. If you find more evidence let me know. You are dismissed."

"Yes sir," the Chief replied. He moved out of Adama's quarters, relieved this conversation has ended.

"Saul, how are we on water reserves?"

"It's bad, Bill. If we don't find water in the next five days, even with rationing in place, we are going to get very thirsty."

"So, our priority now is to find a system with water in it."

"Or to turn around and get back into Colonial territory. We could easily make it in less than five days, but not if we proceed any further away."

"Returning is not an option, Saul. We only started our mission and we already lost one ship, and turning now is out of the question. Saul, start sending raptors to nearby systems in search for water."

"Yes, Bill. There's also another problem."

"What problem?"

"The moral in the fleet is bad, Bill, and by that I mean in the civilian fleet."

Adama, let out a derisive laugh. "They thought they were going on a vacation, weren't they? They thought they would be safer here, far away from Colonial space and from the war with the Cylons, and now that they have found out we are still a target for the Cylons, they are scared."

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"How's the moral in the military?"

"We are all soldiers, Bill. We are trained for this. As long as there's no shortage of booze, we are happy to do our duty," Saul replied, fully aware that such shortage meant more to some than others.

Adama chuckled, "That's what counts. The civilians will have to get used to it, and to make them happy it's not mine but Roslin's job. For frak sake! We are only a little over a week through our mission and they are already complaining. Bunch of pussies!"

"My thought exactly, Bill."

"Okay, Saul, start with the search for water. That's our priority right now."

"Sure, Bill. I'll get right on it," Saul replied, quickly moving out of the room.

* * *

There was definitely trouble in paradise, as the Sixes and Threes were not on the same page with the Ones and Twos. The war was not going as they had planned and their new plan of raiding the Colonies and of stopping the Colonial Fleet from finding the supposedly still existing Thirteenth Colony worked even less. With so many failed plans, it wasn't strange at all that they were not on the same page on what to do next.

"We shouldn't have attacked the Colonies in the first place," a Six said in frustration. "Our plan was completely reliant on the virus disabling their ships, and once that didn't happen we were completely outmatched."

"You know as well as any of us that the Colonials can't be trusted. They have crossed into our territory several times during the armistice just to test us. It was only a matter of time before they would have been the one to attack _us_," One replied.

"Their president has in the past four years diminished their military expenditure. That's not an act of someone who's preparing to strike at us." Six replied. The bloodthirsty Ones had been the most fervent promoters of the war against the Colonies. They wanted nothing more than to kill every last human in the entire galaxy, which now also meant finding whoever helped them, wherever they were. The latest theory was that a colony ship that had departed from Kobol had found a distant planet and had colonized it, but then split on more planets, not knowing anymore who they really were.

"And they could maybe wait for ten more years before attacking us, but sooner or later they would have taken actions against us. It is in their nature."

"This discussion is pointless. What's done is done. There's no point in discussing if we should or shouldn't have started the war now that we already have," Two said.

"Two is right. What's done is done. Now we only need to finish what we started," One added.

"We were not even capable of stopping the Fleet, much less make some progress in Colonial space, on _any _of their planets. The Colonials are regrouping, their military production is on the rise and they are recruiting more and more people in their military. We pissed them off and now they are on a war path. How do you propose we _end this,_ as you so eloquently put it?" Three stepped into the conversation.

"We have two of their colonies under our control, and the fact that we were unable to stop their fleet, _yet,_ doesn't mean we won't be able to do it next time. It was a mistake to send only three baseships to take out their Fleet. We should have sent more," One replied.

"I'm not certain if you are aware, but we have several billions of very pissed off Colonials with hundreds of warships at their disposal and more being built every minute. We can't send a large fleet to hunt down theirs so far out, and especially not for any longer periods of time. Once they have built adequate orbital defenses for their planets they will take those hundred plus warships and start hunting as down," Three replied. The idealistic way of thinking One was displaying really pissed her off. They were not in a good position, but One was still preaching his usual mantra. He was even dressed like a priest. Maybe he entered into his faked character a little too much.

One, on the other hand, knew very well that what Six and Three were saying was the truth, but he, above all, wanted the humans gone, forever, no matter what the cost. "We have increased production as well. Before the Colonials are in any position to attack us, we will have many more ships and raiders at our disposal. So, sending a few more baseships to chase down their fleet is not such a reach. And if we don't send more and the fleet reaches whoever helped them, well, then we are in _real_ trouble. Better to stop them now, even by weakening our defenses here, than having to fight another enemy. We don't know anything about who helped them, but their ability to stop our virus with such ease suggests they are very advanced. We must be glad they did only that and didn't come here with a fleet of their own ships to help the Twelve Colonies."

"I'm more curious to find out why they didn't. If they are so advanced, why haven't they openly taken the fight to us? Why haven't they done more than just stop our virus?" Three said.

"Does it matter? It is what it is. Asking such questions we don't know the answers to will lead us to nowhere." One added. "Do we have consensus to send more ships to chase down their expedition or not?"

There was a long pause, the Threes and Sixes were the ones reluctant to answer, but in the end, there was not much else they could do. They needed to stop Adama's fleet before it found the unknown humans who had helped them. Nodding in agreement, the Cylons made the decision. Soon, ten more baseships would join the other three – well, two and a half really - in search for the Colonial expedition.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They are always appreciated.**_


	4. Missing

_**Author's note:** I would like to warn at this point that this story and the other story I'm writing are not in sync. The events here are happening many months earlier, where the Terrans were still dealing with the Ori. Just so there's no confusion. Also, many have asked about more Terran involvement in this story. What I can tell you is that the story is only at the beginning - this is only the fourth chapter - and although there will be more Terran involvement as the story progresses, this story primarily focuses on the Colonials and the Cylons. That said, well, here comes some more Terran involvement ;)_

_I hope I have answered to all reviews through PM. With both stories out, I'm starting to have problems remembering what reviews I replied to and what reviews I may have missed. IF I missed to reply to any review, sorry about that. Feel free the send me a PM and I'll reply in short order. This applies to both stories._

**_Thanks to my beta for his help, and to you for reading my story. I hope you like this chapter too._**

* * *

Roslin slowly opened her eyes, her vision, still a blur. There was a lot of light in the room, much more than was usual for her quarters. It was a sign that something was different from the last two weeks in which she had woken up in her bed aboard the _Colonial One_. And the reason for that was probably because she wasn't in her bed, or in her room… or on _Colonial One_. She was now awake enough to at least understand that little fact.

With eyes wide open, Roslin began scrutinizing her new environment, with a hint of fear. This definitely wasn't _Colonial One_, and the architecture of the room was very different from any room on their ships. For a quick moment, her thoughts went to the unpleasant place of her being on board a Cylon baseship, and of her being a prisoner. There were no Cylons though and she wasn't restrained in any way, and that was still giving her hope.

A small one though.

Roslin could clearly remember that, before waking up here, she _had_ been on _Colonial One_ and the fleet had just been attacked by the Cylons. She could clearly remember looking through one of the windows on the ship and seeing raiders targeting the _Galactica_ while other raiders were being chased by vipers.

And now she finally remembered how it had ended. A damaged raider had veered off, away from the _Galactica_ and on a straight course for the civilian fleet, and in particular toward the _Colonial One_. The fleet was already jumping away when the raider had rammed the _Colonial One_, the same moment she'd lost consciousness.

Roslin was so concentrated, trying to remember everything that had happened prior to her waking up here, that she didn't even notice when somebody had entered the room.

"How are you feeling?" Doctor Lam asked politely.

"Who… who are you? Where am I?" Roslin asked with a trace of fear.

"I'm Doctor Carolyn Lam. You don't have to be frightened. You are safe here."

"Where… where is here?" Roslin was rubbing her eyes and trying to fully wake up. This was not the kind of conversation someone did with half of her brain still asleep.

"You are aboard a Terran spaceship, the _Prometheus_. You were injured and brought to the sickbay immediately upon retrieval from your ship."

"Terran? _Prometheus_?" Roslin murmured those two words in a questioning manner. She didn't know who the Terrans were, and why the ship was named after a mythological figure from _their_ culture.

"Yes, we are Terrans; and we are from Earth."

While thinking about the revelation that this ship belonged to the people from the Thirteenth Colony, Roslin also questioned the validity of the doctor's claim that she'd been injured. She couldn't find any injuries, and she never felt better. "What injuries? I have no injuries."

"Your injuries have been tended to even before I was brought here. The reason why I was brought is because scans showed you had cancer and the ship's doctor wasn't qualified to treat you."

"_Had_ cancer?" Why the past tense?

"Yes, Vice President Roslin. I was able to devise a treatment for your illness. Currently, you have no cancerous cells present in your body. I would still like to make a few more tests to make sure, but I'm confident you have completely been cured."

"That… that's impossible. My doctor said I have maybe three more months to live."

"Our medical knowledge allows us to treat such diseases with relative ease," Lam replied, thinking how not more than five years ago, her answer would have been a very different one.

Roslin knew there had been suspicions of the humans who had helped in the Cylon attack being technologically more advanced. Them being able to counteract the Cylon virus was clear proof of that fact, but their ability to cure a disease that her people could not, meant that in other areas they were ahead of them too. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I took an oath to help whoever is in need," Lam replied.

"You're from the Thirteenth Colony?" Roslin asked.

Lam looked at the woman, thinking on how to reply, "I'm a doctor, Vice President Roslin. I can answer any question you may have regarding your health, but for everything else, you'll need to ask somebody else."

"I understand. Is there someone I can ask then?"

"There is. He was brought here when I was. He's impatient to meet you as well. If you have no more medical questions for me, I can tell him you're well enough to speak with him."

"Thank you. I would very much like that."

Lam nodded and moved out of the room. Moving down the corridor, she found Daniel already on his way. The man did look like a child waiting for his candy, every time there was some new culture to meet, or when he found some new five thousand years old pot on some planet.

"Doctor Lam. How's your patient?" Daniel asked, wanting to know if he could finally talk to her. Doctors were rarely accommodating when a patient's health was concerned.

"She's awake and well. Her cancer is gone… for now," Liam replied, ending the sentence somberly.

"For now?"

"Yes, for now. While I was making tests, I've noticed a deviation in her DNA in respect to ours."

"What do you mean by deviation? Isn't it normal for a race that lives on another planet to have a slightly different DNA due to evolution in a different environment?"

"It is normal to have a slightly different DNA because of living on a different planet, yes, I have witnessed such deviations in other human populated worlds many times, but it was only a _slight _deviation, less than .05 percent. She is showing more than half percent difference in her DNA, with an even greater difference in her mitochondrial DNA."

"That's strange. Isn't mitochondrial DNA used by biologists and archeologists to elucidate the evolutionary relationships among species?"

"It is, and that's because the mtDNA is exclusively inherited by the mother. This is also why I'm certain such change should not be present only because of environmental differences."

Daniel was already thinking of something, but at the moment he was more preoccupied by Lam's statement of Roslin being clear from cancer, but only _for now_. "Doctor, why did you say she's free from cancer _for now_?"

"I will have to make more tests, but I believe her disease is genetic in nature, and unfortunately hereditary; which means I would probably find the same thing in other Colonials."

"Well, Doctor, we have more Colonials aboard. You can run tests on them to make sure."

"I will."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'm going to check on our VIP guest now."

While Lam continued on her way down the corridor, Daniel quickly crossed the remaining meters separating him from Roslin's room. Entering inside, he could already tell the Colonies' vice president was eagerly awaiting his arrival. She must have a lot of questions to ask him, but he still wasn't certain how many he could, or should, give her.

"Vice President Roslin, I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson. I'm a member of the Terran Council," Daniel said politely.

"Doctor Jackson, can you explain to me how I ended up here?" Roslin asked.

Apparently, she went to asking questions right away. "I wasn't present, but from what the captain told me, your ship was badly damaged by a Cylon raider that managed to ram it. From what he told me, it looks that your ship performed an erroneous jump. You were stranded, and your ship was damaged beyond your crew's capability to repair it and there were injured people on board. At that point, the captain decided to act and come to your rescue. It was that, or leave you to die."

"Then I will have to thank your captain for saving us," Roslin replied.

"I'll make sure you have the chance before you are transferred back to your ship," Daniel replied.

"Back to our ship? But you just said the _Colonial One_ has been damaged," Roslin replied.

"It was, but we were able to repair the damage. Once we are certain all wounded in the attack are healthy again, you will be sent back so you can rejoin your fleet. We wouldn't want your fleet to proclaim you MIA less than a month after your journey has begun," Daniel replied, smiling.

"But, Doctor Jackson, our fleet is searching for _you_. We are searching for the Thirteenth Colony. Why would you simply send us back now that we found you?" Roslin asked in puzzlement. She had the slight feeling these people were trying to get rid of them.

"Uh… that's actually a very difficult question. Let's for now simply say that we are not ready to meet your people, not yet anyway."

"Why are you referring to us like we are not the same people? You are the Lost Tribe and we are all the People from Kobol."

"Um… yeah, that's not exactly true," Daniel replied awkwardly. He really didn't want to give her earth shattering revelations, but there wasn't much he could tell her without doing exactly that.

"I beg your pardon?" Roslin asked, not knowing what he meant.

"Miss Vice President, what do you know about the Thirteenth Colony?"

This was a strange question to ask, but she decided to answer to it anyway. "I have to admit, it isn't much. From our history we know that almost four thousand years ago, the Thirteenth Colony was the first to leave Kobol and venture into space. They went in search for the promised land, Earth."

"Yes, that is what we know about it too, but the problem is that we have evidence on our planet of human civilizations going back more than ten thousand years in the past. So, you see, we have a slight problem with the timeline."

Roslin was blinking in puzzlement. Was this man lying for some reason? Or, if he was telling the truth, what was going on here? There was no way their historical records were that much off. Their scrolls maybe didn't talk about the exact year when the Lost Tribe had left Kobol, but an error of so many _thousands_ of years was impossible. "That is not possible Doctor Jackson. Life began on Kobol, and we know the Lost Tribe didn't leave ten thousand years ago. Your tests must be wrong."

Daniel smiled inwardly. They were currently at the denial phase of their discussion, which will probably be followed by the angry phase. Still, there was not much he could do about it. And the worst part was that he'd been ordered by the council to keep the revealing part at the bare minimum.

"There are many things we still don't know, but we are certain that humans have been present on Earth for much longer than four thousand years," Daniel replied, not wanting to mention that they had traveled back in time to 4000 BC, so there wasn't much doubt about the Colonies being in the wrong here.

"You say it is and yet you give me no proof, and your answers are very vague at that," Roslin replied.

"I can remedy that," Daniel said, taking out of his right pocket a strange piece of clay and showing it to her.

"What is that?" Roslin asked. It didn't look like much.

"Well, I can't give you an intact piece of pottery, we are very protective of our archeological findings, but this should be enough for you to perform a thermoluminescence dating test in order to establish how long ago it was made. This should prove that this piece was heated more than seven thousand years ago, when the vase, which this piece was part of, was made."

Roslin took the piece of ceramic, looking it intently from every side. "You have advanced technology at your disposal. You could have forged this in order to fool us."

"Miss Vice President, if you are already convinced that whatever I say is a lie and that we can forge whatever we want, then there's no reason for us to even have this conversation. Whatever I say that isn't to your liking, you'll simply dismiss it as being a lie or fabrication. I also believe that you should ask yourself why we would go to such length to even make a fake piece of a vase only to convince you that life on Earth predates the time when the Lost Tribe left Kobol."

"So you admit you have technology capable of making this piece look as if it is seven thousand years old even if it is not?"

'_Stubborn woman!'_ Daniel thought.

"To tell you the truth, I have no idea. I'm not a scientist, but I do believe we have the technology necessary to accomplish something like that if we put our minds to it," Daniel replied.

"Then you giving me this doesn't prove anything," Roslin replied.

"I suppose it doesn't," Daniel replied, deflated.

Roslin looked at Daniel without saying anything for a good thirty seconds, "Why aren't you willing to help us?"

"Because it is not that simple. There are many things we need to consider before we even begin to think about joining this war of yours, a war that is not ours to fight."

"What is there to consider? Humans are being killed by machines, _your_ people Doctor Jackson. That's all that you need to know," Roslin replied angrily.

"First of all, I'm telling you again, we are not your Lost Tribe, and second, we still don't have enough information to even know on which side to side on. The only reason why we helped you by protecting your ships from the Cylon virus was because we wanted to stop genocide from happening; the genocide of _your_ people."

"What do you mean, on which side you'd side on? They are machines!"

"Your point being?" Daniel replied angrily.

"My point? Are you telling me you would side with machines?" Roslin replied incredulous.

"I'm saying that it doesn't matter if they are Cylons, humans, purple little aliens, or any other sentient beings. The decision on which side we side on, _if _we side on any_,_ depends solely on the actions that have been taken by the two sides involved. That is, if we even want to join the war, because at this point, we simply don't. It's not our war after all."

Roslin was dumbstruck by what she was hearing. This man was telling her there was a chance of them siding with the Cylons, "Doctor Jackson, how can you side with machines that have tried to commit genocide."

"As you can see, we aren't. But I also can tell you that we are not ready to side with someone who has created a sentient race only to enslave it, or to side with the race that is also responsible for breaking the armistice," Daniel replied, pissed about this woman telling him what they should do. There was no way the Terrans were going to get involved in every human conflict _others_ created. Humans need to learn to clean up their own messes. And the Cylons _were_ their mess to deal with. Besides, they were having problems of their own. Much bigger problems.

"What? The Cylons broke the armistice. Something you're apparently well aware."

"No Miss Vice President, from your own records we know that, several years ago, your military ordered an incursion into Cylon territory with the sole purpose of testing their reaction and capabilities to protect _their_ borders. And from what we have gathered so far, it looks like this was the event that made the Cylons decide to retaliate," Daniel replied.

"Our records? There's nothing in our public records on what you're referring to," Roslin replied incredulous.

"Well, I'm not talking about public records, am I?" Daniel spat back.

"You have access to our classified documents?" Roslin half asked, half stated.

"Of course. From the moment we found out about you and the impending war, except for saving your ass, our goal has also been to find out the truth, as much of it as possible. And public records are not the best source if you're looking for the truth. Public records are probably the _worst_ place if you want to find out the truth."

Roslin was simply speechless. Even she didn't have access to classified materials these people were able to acquire. Well, maybe now that she was vice president she did have the necessary authorization, but she never came across a document containing what Daniel was talking about. And the worst part was that these people apparently were not against sticking their collective noses where they didn't belong.

Daniel noticed the thoughtful expression on Roslin's face. He knew she didn't like what he had told her; any of it probably. "Miss Vice President, I could have come here and have told you a bunch of lies. I could have told you what you wanted to hear, maybe even promise you something that we are not ready to deliver. Instead, I came here and told you the truth as I see it. I have given you proof that should clearly indicate that we're not the Thirteenth Colony you're searching for. It is now up to you to believe me or not."

A lot to think about had been put in front of Roslin, and most of it she didn't like, but one thing was troubling her the most. She believed this man was telling her the truth, which meant there was a lot she didn't know about the history of her people. "If you're not the Lost Tribe, then where is it? They went searching for Earth four thousand years ago."

"We don't know. What we do know is that they never _reached_ Earth."

"And if you are not the Lost Tribe of Kobol, then who are you?"

"We are humans from Earth. We were born there, the same way as all our ancestors were."

"Doctor Jackson, human life began on Kobol," Roslin stated.

"Yeah, that's where our findings would disagree. But, since we still don't know a lot of our history, debating about this is pointless, wouldn't you agree?" Daniel replied, mostly wanting to end this conversation.

"At least we agree on something. There is no point in discussing this," Roslin replied, not very happy on how this entire conversation had gone.

"I'm sorry, I know you're disappointed and that you expected more from this meeting. I hope that, one day, we will be in a better situation than we are now, and that real talks about an alliance between our people could take place, but for now, this will have to be it. We never intended to meet you at this point. We did so only because you would have died on your ship if we hadn't."

Roslin nodded in understanding, although she had the nagging suspicion this man was not telling her everything. Actually, she was more than certain this man was concealing many facts, but what and why he did so was the real question.

Roslin and Daniel continued discussing a few other topics regarding their separate cultures and their people's history. Here as well, Roslin had the impression Daniel was telling her many facts, but nothing of any importance. As their conversation finally came to a conclusion, Daniel explained to her that their ship had been repaired and that soon, after the Doctor cleared all patients, they would be allowed to return to it in order to rejoin their fleet.

As Daniel made his way out of the sickbay, he almost bumped into Jack, who was leaning on the wall just outside the room. Together, the two of them, continued their walk down the corridor.

"So, how did it go?" Jack asked.

"How do you think it went? I wasn't allowed to tell her about any other race in the galaxy, I couldn't tell her that there are thousands of worlds with humans and other non-human races, and I couldn't even tell her that we can't help them because we have problems of our own; much bigger problems."

"So, not good," Jack replied.

"Not in the slightest."

"Look Daniel, I know you're for telling the truth and all that, but it's not our place to reveal the existence of other races to the Colonies or to the Cylons, and from what I understand, whatever we tell the Colonies, the Cylons learn about it."

"I know Jack, but without being allowed to tell Roslin the real situation in the galaxy, I had to tell her a bunch of half-truths. Maybe if I told her that one of the reasons why we are not getting involved in their war is that we have several galaxies to worry about, maybe she would have taken it better than my explanation how we don't know on which side to side on!"

"But we don't Daniel. On one side you have these toasters who were more than willing to commit genocide, and on the other side you have the Colonials who want to do the same and think of the Cylons as nothing more than mindless machines, and we know that at least the human form Cylons are not."

"Jack, you just referred to the Cylons as toasters."

Jack looked at Daniel quizzically, "You're right, I shouldn't have. It's just that, when I see those tin cans…" Jack stopped, again thinking of what he'd just said, "Fine! I want call them that anymore."

"Well, it's a start."

Jack needed to change the discussion, "So, what do you think will happen when she gets back to her fleet?"

Daniel sighed, thinking for a moment, "She didn't like the fact we are not prepared to help them, she didn't like that I told her we were not the 13th Colony and I think she also didn't like when we talked about our respective histories, especially the part related to our different religious beliefs. In fact, I don't know which part she liked less, or believed in for that matter. When I told her that most people on Earth are monotheists, the fact that we have many different religions on our planet, or that there are many who actually don't believe in _any_ religion, she almost blew a gasket. As far as I can tell, whoever doesn't believe in the old Greek gods is a heretic to them."

"So, not good," Jack replied, simply.

"Well, you tell me what will happen when this reaches back the Colonies. I don't see them liking it very much, and the fact that they now have reason to believe we could side with the Cylons too, well, I would say _definitely_ not good."

"Well, they are still far away from Earth, and without knowing where it is, they won't be able to find it. Let's hope that the war with the Ori will soon end so we can devote some resources to this and maybe even find those Cylons and convince them to stop this war. Also, this is Klaus' shindig and I'm not crashin' it. Not that I'd even want to."

* * *

After the last raid the fleet had sustained, things went from bad to worse. It wasn't any damage sustained during the battle, or anything related to the military. The problem was in the civilian fleet.

The _Colonial One_ had been hit by a damaged raider, causing the ship to jump erroneously. Worst even, the fact the _Colonial One_ didn't jump again to the rendezvous coordinates meant the ship was damaged or, worse, the ship had been destroyed. Searching for the _Colonial One_ had immediately started, the moment they understood the ship was missing, but it was a futile exercise. A faulty jump could have transported the ship anywhere in the void of space or even in the middle of a planet or star.

As hope of finding the ship was thinning out, tensions in the civilian fleet were starting to mount. Their government didn't have a leader, and with almost no hope of Roslin's return, the hastily formed Quorum of Twelve wanted to elect a substitute.

Something Adama was categorically against.

He didn't know the Vice President well enough to form a complete opinion of her – he still didn't know exactly how capable she was – but what he _did _know was that she wasn't the usual power hungry politician he was used to deal with. He didn't know if this was due to their extraordinary circumstances, or if it was her character - after all she'd been the Secretary of Education before being promoted to vice president – but at least it looked as if she was more preoccupied with the welfare of the fleet than by spending time consolidating her position in it. And he knew elections back home were in less than two months, which meant even here, far away from home, there was a possibility the civilians would ask for reelections, even for the fleet's civilian leader. But now that she was missing, there was no doubt anymore _if_ there would be reelections, not if she didn't return any time soon.

Alarms began blaring through the CIC, making Adama look at the DRADIS console. There was a new unknown contact displayed on it, and it appeared in the middle of the fleet. Then, suddenly, the grey icon turned into a green one.

"Sir, it's the _Colonial One_," Gaeta promptly replied, the moment he got the ship's identification codes.

"Launch the alert vipers and order the civilian fleet to jump immediately." Was this a repeat of the _Delphi_? Adama thought it probably was.

"Yes, sir," Gaeta replied.

"Dee, contact the _Colonial One_," Adama ordered, with clear urgency in his voice.

"Channel open, sir," Dee replied shortly after.

"_Colonial One_, this is admiral Adama from the _Galactica_. You are ordered to power down all nonessential systems and prepare to be boarded." Adama said, pausing for a moment. "Failure to comply will be met with deadly force."

Even before any reply came, the _Colonial One_ powered down its systems.

"_Galactica, we've received you orders loud and clear, and we are complying fully. We are ready to receive a boarding party."_

Adama thought about the response, still uncertain if this was some kind of trap or not. He muted the mike before addressing Lt. Gaeta. "Mister Gaeta, are there any radiological emissions coming from the ship?"

"No, sir. Nothing that would indicate the presence of nuclear ordinance on board the _Colonial One_."

"Bill, you still think this is some kind of trap?" Saul asked.

"I don't know what to think," Adama answered, before pushing the mike's button again. "_Colonial One_, can you explain your long absence?"

"_Galactica, the damage the raider caused made us jump to the wrong coordinates. Thankfully, we found friends who helped us tend to our wounded while they generously repaired the damage done to the ship."_

Adama was puzzled. "Friends?"

"_Yes Admiral, friends. They are Terrans, Admiral. And they are from Earth."_

Adama's eyes went wide, the same as of any other crew member present on the CIC. "You made contact with the Thirteenth Colony?"

"_Um, I'm not certain about that, Admiral, not if what they told us is the truth. They say they are not the Thirteenth Colony… and that their civilization predates the Thirteenth Colony's departure from Kobol."_

"What?" Saul yelped, but even before Adama could register Saul's question, the reply from the _Colonial one_ continued.

"_Admiral, I believe the best thing would be for you to have this conversation with vice president Roslin. She talked with them the most."_

Adama couldn't agree more. He was also more and more convinced this wasn't a Cylon trap, which was very good news. "I agree, Captain. Two raptors are already on their way."

"_Acknowledged Galactica. We are staying put and awaiting their arrival. Colonial One over and out."_

The conversation was cut off, leaving Adama with his thoughts. He hated having so many questions swirling in his head and having to wait for the answers. The boarding and the medical protocols that would follow, would last at least a few hours. Time he would have to spend doing something else to keep his mind away from thinking those questions. He knew how important this first contact could be for the Colonies, and he was impatient to debrief Roslin and the rest of the crew.

This could be exactly what their mission was all about.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They're always appreciated.**_


	5. Discovery

**Author's note:** I apologize for the following lengthy reply to one of the reviews filling an entire page of this chapter, but since whoever wrote the review has used a guest account to criticize the last chapter, I have no way of using PM in order to reply.

**Guest (the lengthy one):** First, if you want to criticize at length that's fine by me, but at least have the decency to do it with a real account so I can reply through PM instead of having to write an entire page on the beginning of the next chapter as a response. I think it is not too much to ask.

Second, you need to chill a little. I didn't run over your favorite pet, and this story is for me to have some fun while writing and for you and others to have some fun while reading. It is definitely not to be taken seriously. And everything you criticized, you could have put as questions if you wanted to know why I wrote it. Ask questions first, and then criticize if the answers are not satisfactory. Not the other way around.

Third, if you are prepared to criticize, then be prepared to be criticized in return. So, here it comes :)

Your review is full of unfounded assumptions, you like to take small pieces from the entire context, glue them together and give your own interpretation, and you are literally making stuff up to support your theories.

This is what you wrote:

'_The Colonials sent the Valkyrie to the line because the Cylons refused, for upwards of 38/39 years, to send a delegation to the Armistice Station'_

That's simply not true!

This is what Adama and Apollo said in season 3 episode 8:

"_It was a black ops mission. Its sole purpose was to ascertain the likelihood of a Cylon strike…_

"…_the admiralty has grown restless with the Adar administration. They felt we were resting on our laurels, unprepared to protect against an attack. My mission was to escort a stealth recon ship just beyond the armistice line. Stick our nose over, gather evidence and see if there was any suspicious activities."_

_Apollo: "And if the Cylons discovered you across the line, breaching the armistice, then they would see that as…"_

_Adama: "An act of war."_

…_later_

_Adama: "I started it… I initiated it._

_Apollo: "Wait a minute. Started what?"_

_Adama: "The Attacks on the colonies. By crossing the line I showed them that we were the warmongers they figured us to be. And I left them but one choice. To attack us… before we attacked them."_

…_later, with Roslin_

_Roslin: "Your resignation. You've got to be kidding me."_

_Adama: I've said before, we can't hide from the things we've done. I see no other way around this situation._

_Roslin: I think you're being naïve. Did it ever occur to you that the admiralty set you up to provoke a war they wanted?_

Now, if Roslin's suspicions were correct, and Daniel has access to all Colonial top secret military files, including Adama's report of the event and the secret plans of the admiralty, then who do you think Daniel should blame for inciting the war?

So who between the two of us is the one who didn't pay attention while watching the show?

And even if the reason was the Cylons not responding year after year, as you suggested, in that case you send a ship squawking its beacon very loudly and with a message stating that you want to talk, _near_ the red line (not over). You don't send a stealth mission when you know what's at stake if you're discovered, that is at least if you're not insane. Plus, since I know exactly how vast space is, crossing the red line somewhere in the middle of nowhere to gather intelligence is literally the stupidest thing I've ever heard… except of course if your goal isn't to restart the war again.

And in conclusion, you purposefully disregarded what Daniel said in my story on how he regrets being forced to speak half-truths for why they are not helping in the war. I explained that the council wasn't allowing him to tell them about the rest of the galaxy, other races and their problems, so he had to improvise to explain why they were not doing anything. And if he couldn't tell them they're busy fighting other wars, the only thing left was for him to find other reasons why they're not prepared to join the war.

Point two:

You wrote: _where in the series was this "anyone who doesn't believe is a heretic"?_

_Daniel in my story said: "…As far as I can tell, whoever doesn't believe in the old Greek gods is a heretic to them."_

This is Daniel's summarized opinion after he spoke with Roslin for ten minutes. You do realize that characters in the story can be wrong sometimes. That what they believe, say or the opinion they've made could maybe not be the exact and universal truth. Or do you believe that Daniel must be infallible, always, and in every story? Why did you even mention Baltar, worshiping and all that other crap that Daniel knows nothing about? He and Jack didn't watch the Battlestar Galactica show on television, so stop assuming characters in this story know what _you_ know from the show.

Daniel could have simply picked up Roslin's reluctance to everything he'd said. Maybe even Roslin doesn't like the idea of having different religions, maybe she thinks he's lying to her about everything or, if not, maybe because it could make problems if and when they reunite. All of this Daniel could have picked up… and _misinterpreted_. And nothing of this has anything to do with the real state of the Colonies. Daniel could have made a wrong assumption, just like you did.

And do you even know what the definition of 'heretic' is?

Heretic - A person who holds controversial opinions, especially one who publicly dissents from the officially accepted dogma of the Roman Catholic Church.

In the Colonies, this would be applied to all those who have controversial opinions or dissent from the old Greek religion, since that _is_ their mainstream religion, and practically the only one on their planets. Furthermore, in a strictly monotheistic society, the belief in other religions, even more than a lack thereof, would most certainly result in those people being labeled as heretics.

Like it was shown in the failed Caprica series, with that group that believed in there being only one true god, they were being marginalized and called heretics because of it. So, pick any explanation you like more, this being just Daniel's opinion or the second one, and I don't quite understand what you are really criticizing here.

Point three: If this last part of the chapter you didn't understand as a fun bit between Jack and Daniel who are always on each other's back, then you really have some rethinking to do. Also, Daniel has been a council member for the last four years, Jack as well, and he's also an Alterran; definitely not the same people anymore. So, sorry, but I really don't get what's wrong with what I wrote here, even if I've made the two of them, as you said, more politically correct than their previous characters in the show. Plus, calling other sentient beings derisive or off-putting names is in my opinion very wrong. Giving such names to others has in our history often been used to desensitize people before they needed to go kill each other during wars! This was done so that soldiers would think less of their enemy. It was done so that on a subconscious level they wouldn't think they were killing other humans. It was done to make killing easier.

So, giving races derisive names is definitely not a good thing. No matter who or what they are.

If the Colonials created an organic sentient species, and enslaved them and forced them to fight their wars, you would probably have called them monsters, and whatever the slaves would have done to them once free, you would think it was well deserved. But since they are not organic, but made of some other material, you disregard the Colonials' previous actions and suddenly they are the good guys, even though they were the slave masters, and they were also the ones who wanted for the war to start again.

So, how can the same action, the same deed, be judged differently just because the victim was different? Should we judge based on the actions performed, or based on who the victim was?

So, on one side you have ex-slavemasters who wanted the war to start again and who'd have no problem in wiping out all Cylons. On the other side again you have genocidal maniacs who want to do the same to their creators. If I were a third party, I would stay clear of both.

And you are also forgetting the little fact that the 13th Colony were Cylons, which was possibly, and probably, 1/13 of the population of Kobol, and no one on the planet knew they were Cylons. That should tell you something very important, something I hinted at in this chapter, but you were probably too busy criticizing to notice.

**Guest (the other one):** It will. This incident will make quite a stir.

_**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll like this chapter as well.**_

* * *

Adama's fleet burst into existence, completing the next jump on their journey. They had finally found a system with water on one of the planets in it.

"Lt. Gaeta, I want a detailed scan of the system," Adama ordered the moment he was informed the fleet had jumped safely.

"Yes sir," Gaeta readily replied, immediately starting a series of actions on the console in front of him, "The system seems to have no habitable planets, sir, just like the raptor reported," Gaeta said, but at that point the DRADIS began beeping, "Sir, I have a faint contact on the DRADIS."

"Is it the Cylons?" Adama replied, with clear urgency in his voice.

"No sir, I don't believe it is. It looks like a small ship and I'm not detecting any energy readings originating from it. It looks dead in the water, sir; probably the reason why the raptor didn't detect it."

"Launch the alert vipers and a raptor to check it out. We need to be absolutely sure there are no Cylons here before we start collecting water."

"Yes sir."

* * *

The vipers sped from the launch tubes, quickly followed by the lonely raptor. Boomer and Crashdown were again the chosen crew to check the new finding. Not that they minded. It was a good change to, from time to time, leave the confines of the larger ship and fly the small bird for a while.

While approaching the location where the DRADIS was indicating the detected ship was, Boomer was already able to discern the general shape of the relatively small craft. The craft was less than thirty meters in length and it had a very strange shape. Pointy at the front and with what looked like a cockpit only a few meters behind, still in the narrow portion, the craft had a very strangely rounded and bulky… _back_ with a pointy top and with no discernible engines whatsoever. Boomer thought the ship was very strange, and definitely not something that would pass as a viable craft's design in the Colonies.

Circling around it, she saw the doors on the starboard side. Those were strange as well. They looked like sliding doors, not something you would usually see on a spaceship. They didn't even have a way to dock with the thing. They would need to go EVA and pry the door open, probably with a torch.

Getting the go ahead from _Galactica_, she placed the raptor in front of the strange craft's doors, with just enough space to open the port side of the raptor. Crashdown exited the raptor, soon realizing that Boomer was right. He would need to use a torch.

It took almost half an hour. The material the ship was made of, whatever it was, was incredibly difficult to cut through. Finally making a hole large enough to slip through, Crashdown entered the craft. Inside, the craft was dark, with no apparent power and no gravity to speak of. The only thing he was certain was that the craft was completely lifeless, with not even the grav-plates working anymore.

Bouncing forward, towards where the only two seats in the entire cockpit were, he saw the general humanoid shape of what had probably been the pilot, still seated in the right chair. As he pushed once again, he floated until he reached the seat, stopping his motion and turning the seat to see the pilot. Crashdown took a deep breath when he saw the carcass of the pilot. It was almost unrecognizable in its desiccated state, and it wore a strange metallic uniform - or maybe armor was a better word for it. The controls in front of the pilot were also strange. A strange bulb that must serve for piloting the spacecraft, but how, was beyond his understanding.

"Boomer, I found the remains of the pilot. From the looks of it, he's been here for a very long time."

"What about the craft?" Boomer replied over the comm.

"It looks dead, and I have no idea how this thing works or how to turn it on, even if it had power, which apparently, it doesn't."

"All right. Come back to the raptor. We will tow it back to the _Galactica_," Boomer replied.

"Understood."

Once Crashdown was back in the raptor they began towing the ship back to the _Galactica_. When they finally reached the large capital ship, the alien craft was barely capable of fitting through the doors and inside the hangar bay, which was made to accommodate the much smaller vipers and raptors, and not the almost thirty meters strange craft.

Adama and Tigh came into the hangar bay only minutes later. They were very curious to see what that thing was. The crew had already forced the door completely open, so they could enter more easily, and they were now in the process of taking the dead pilot out in order to transport him to the sickbay where he would be examined.

Adama entered the craft, looking at the strange interior. He had never seen such a craft, and it definitely didn't belong to either the Colonies or, as far as he knew, the Cylons, at least not anything he'd seen the Cylons to have.

"Chief, what can you tell me about this craft?" Adama asked.

"Not much at this point. We have barely started inspecting it, but even now I can tell you that this craft is something completely different from what we have. Or the Cylons for that matter. Come look at this," the Chief replied.

They moved just behind the two pilot seats, with the Chief opening a hidden compartment with many crystals of different colors stacked one near the other inside.

"What's that?" Saul asked while looking at the various crystals. They looked so pretty, almost something you would use for decorative purposes. He didn't think they were used for that reason though.

"I'm not sure, but I would say that this is the ship's control system. It seems the ship doesn't have computers like ours do. This ship has crystal based computers. We found many more in the back, probably for other ship's systems, and all are based on crystals of various sizes and colors," the chief replied.

"Crystal based?" Adama asked.

"Yes. Our scientists have theorized the possibility of photon based computers that would essentially be based on crystals, but no one has ever come up with something that could actually work thus far. Theoretically, photonic based computers could give unprecedented speed, much faster than what we have now, and possibly with a much greater complexity to it with no downside like overheating."

"Are you saying Chief that this is technology far in advance of ours?" Adama asked.

"I would say it is, sir."

"Can you find out how it works?"

"Well, maybe I could be able to bring power to the systems from the _Galactica_ and bring the craft's systems online, but for understanding this technology, I think there's only one person here who can even begin to understand it."

"Who?" Adama asked, although he had a pretty good idea on who the Chief was referring to.

"Gaius Baltar, sir. He is the Colonial's greatest expert, and if he can't understand how this systems work, nobody can. Or maybe better is to say, nobody in the Colonies, because somebody out there definitely knows."

Adama didn't like it. He didn't like Baltar at all, and he would very much like if the man never even saw the craft, but apparently he had no choice. "I'll tell Baltar to take a look at it. In the meantime Chief, you should at least try to restore power to its systems."

"Yes sir," the Chief said, before both Adama and Tigh left the craft.

"All right people, we have a lot of work to do," the Chief said to the assorted group of workers, before quickly glancing back and seeing that one of them was moving out of the ship. "Hey, Malcolm! Where are you going?"

"I just need to go to the loo, Chief. I'll be back in a jiff, I promise," Malcolm replied.

"Be quick about it. I need you here."

"Sure thing, Chief," Malcolm replied, slipping out of the craft.

This was not good, not good at all. Even though the Tel'tak was an old piece of junk, there was still a lot of tech in it the Colonials could find very useful, and with them the Cylons as well. Malcolm turned two more corridors before coming in front of his room. He entered inside, thankful there was no one there. These were all shared rooms after all and private moments were few and far apart.

He quickly grabbed his Walkman, the device quickly recognizing his biometric signature as well as the command he mentally gave to contact Brian.

"_Yes,"_ the voice came from the device.

"Brian, it's Malcolm."

"_What is it Malcolm?"_

"We have a slight problem here. The Colonials have just found an old Tel'tak drifting in space."

There was a small pause before the reply came. _"Is the ship operational?"_

"No, not yet at least. There is no power but the crew is working on bringing it directly from the _Galactica_."

"_Can you sabotage the ship without being discovered?"_

Malcolm thought about it for a second, "Maybe I can make the Tel'tak overload when they bring the power from the ship. They would probably think it was the result of the two power systems being incompatible, but I'm not sure if that will fry every system on the ship."

"_Understood, do as much damage as you can without bringing suspicion on to you, and focus on the hyperdrive. We can't allow them to have such tech, much less the Cylons. Is that understood?"_

"Yes sir, I'll do my best. Malcolm out." Malcolm dropped the Walkman on the bed before exiting the room. It was time to cause some damage, one of the things he liked doing the most. It was one of the perks of his job he cherished the most.

Adama was on his way to the sick bay. He wanted to see what the good doctor had found about the dead pilot. Entering the sick bay, Adama immediately spotted the deep frown on the doctor's face, "What is it, Doctor?"

The doctor glanced at Adama, worried, before turning back at the cadaver on the table that, by now, had been completely stripped naked, "Well, from what I can tell, this is the corpse of a very strong human male, but there's something that is troubling me."

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"This," the doctor said, pointing at the corpse's abdomen.

"What's that?" Adama asked seeing the 'X' carved into the corpse's stomach.

"It is a pouch."

"A pouch? Pouch for what?"

"And that's the thing that is even more troubling. The pouch serves for this," The doctor said, showing the desiccated _snake_ he had previously taken out of it and put on the table next to the corpse.

"A snake?"

"Well, it looks like a snake, but it's not a snake. This is something we've never seen before. And you don't have to even ask me why this thing was in his belly because I really don't know."

"What the frak!" Saul yelped, the moment he approached his CO and the doctor and saw what was on the table.

"Are you telling me, Doctor, that this human has a pouch inside his belly for that snake to live in?" Adama continued not bothering about Saul's remark.

"That is the most I can tell you for now. At least until more results come in," the Doctor replied, his face showing the full extent of the wonder he was feeling, which was telling a lot to those who knew the doctor well.

"Thank you, Doctor. Notify me immediately when you have more information," Adama said, moving away from the table with the dead pilot.

Saul followed his CO, still glancing back at the corpse of the pilot and at the snake lying near it, "Bill, what the frak was that?"

"I know as much as you do, Saul."

"Do you think this is a human from the Thirteenth Colony?"

"Do you know of a Fourteenth Colony?"

"No."

"Then you have your answer. Let's hope Baltar will have more luck with the craft."

"If that hack is able to understand anything of what's on that ship, I swear I'am cutting drinking."

Adama looked at his XO, uncertain of his statement.

"Okay, maybe I won't, but I have the feeling that guy only _thinks_ he's a genius."

"On that we're in accord. Still, he's our best shot at accessing that ship's systems. Who knows what we can learn from it."

In the meantime, Malcolm was working on preparing the ship to be powered. In reality though, he had changed the emplacement of various crystals responsible for regulating the power flow to its systems. If he was right, instead of evening out the power flow, what he did should create a constant buildup of energy until every system in the back of the ship overloaded.

"This is incredible," Gaius yelped, looking around the ship. "Have you finished with the power conduits?"

"I think we have, but frak me if I know if this will work," the Chief replied.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Gaius replied eagerly.

The Chief shrugged before moving to the exit doors and yelling, "Turn the power on!"

One of the mechanics turned the power switch on. The chief got back inside the ship, still with no power whatsoever. Waiting a few seconds more, already certain it wouldn't work, the lights inside the ship started flickering, with the console in the front shyly coming back to life.

"It works!" Gaius shouted happily.

The Chief noticed that fact as well, but he didn't like the strange whining sound originating in the back of the ship that was slowly but surely becoming louder and louder. And the Chief knew what that sound usually meant, "Oh-ho."

Before the Chief was able to say anything else, sparks started flying from various systems. The people inside quickly ducked, moving as fast as they could out of the ship. The Chief was first to exit, yelling, "Cut it off, cut the power off!"

But it was already too late. An explosion blew in the rear section of the ship while people were still exiting what at the moment looked more like a death trap than a ship. Thankfully, the explosion was only in the rear section of the ship, and no one got hurt.

With the power having finally been cut off, and no indication that something inside was about to explode again, the chief slowly walked back inside the ship closely followed by Gaius and Malcolm.

"What happened?" Gaius asked.

Malcolm looked around the ship, still with a lot of smoke present in the air, and noticed that the rear section was completely blown to pieces. The hyperdrive was history and possibly other systems too. "It must have been some kind of overload, probably because our power system and the power system of this ship are incompatible."

"You would think such an advanced ship has a power regulator to prevent something like this from happening," Gaius replied, angrily. His new toy just turned into a piece of junk, even more than it was before.

"Maybe it had, a hundred years ago, when this thing was still new," Malcolm replied quickly, not wanting to give anyone time to get some strange ideas.

"It is possible that this was the reason why the ship was drifting in space. If their power regulation system malfunctioned, they could have remained dead in space unable to do anything," the Chief added.

"It looks like the engines have blown completely. That's unfortunate. I was looking forward to seeing what kind of propulsion system this craft had," Gaius replied, disappointed. "Now I'll have to test system by system separately, and who knows how any of them works."

"Well, fortunately no one got hurt," Malcolm said. Indeed, he _was _happy no one got hurt, especially since it had been his doing.

"Yeah. Still, the CO won't be very happy to hear about this," the Chief said.

* * *

_Cloud Nin_e. A luxury liner for the rich and famous. How such vessel made its way on a mission such as this one, was very difficult to understand. The vessel had a large glass dome on the top that begged to be targeted by a missile or by very fast moving objects like railgun slugs. The other ships in the Civilian Fleet weren't much better either, but at least didn't have hull portions _made of glass_!

Joshua, as he sat on a bar-stool in the very frequented Could Nine's bar waiting to be served, thought about such things. During the time since the mission had begun, he'd learned there were many rich people in the Civilian Fleet, and most of them were residing on _Cloud Nine_.

After the initial bombardment of the Colonials' planets, many were certain the end was near. They were certain the Cylons had finally come back, and that this time they would finish what they'd started so many years ago. And they all believed they'd succeed this time. And when you think the end is near, you try to find a way to flee the impending destruction in any way possible.

Many rich people had spent their entire fortune to get a seat in the Expeditionary Fleet, thinking they would eventually find a safer place, maybe even a place protected from the Cylons by distance, and by the 13th Colony. Such people also liked a certain standard of living, therefore, they wanted the luxury liner to become part of the Expeditionary Fleet.

Joshua's blue drink, in a glass in which on Earth he would usually get a martini, finally arrived. It was his fifth drink today. Without waiting, he took a short sip from the glass, with the strong alcohol leaving a strong burning sensation as it went down his throat. _Not bad_, he thought. He then glanced around him, noticing the few other people in the bar with him. They were the rich and famous type, he could tell, the ones that had paid top credits to be here.

But he also knew there were others, less rich people too in the fleet.

After the first few weeks on their voyage, things had begun changing. Soon people had realized that money in a bank, or a person being a celebrity back on Picon, Tauron, or any other planet in the Colonies, didn't mean much out here. Here credits were still useful, but favors and connections – the ability to procure a needed item or service, whatever it was, if it was really needed – meant even more. Quickly, the capable, and dishonest, began taking advantage of that fact. They began taking their, at least from their point of view, rightful place in the inner workings of the Civilian Fleet. Deals were being made, people were being schemed and new criminal organizations were being born at a frightening pace.

It was easy for Joshua to discern who the scheming types were. It was his job to see such things, even when he wasn't working. Even his fake dossier showed his predisposition to clever and quick thinking, as well as being a skilled observer. It was this the reason why Adama had decided to give him this job. He was tasked to gather intelligence on the inner workings of the Civilian fleet, and if he found something of some concern, he was ordered to act upon it and stop it. He was only at the beginning though. So far he'd been able to notice a few individuals that could be members of the emerging clandestine criminal underworld, but not more than that.

Today things would change though. It was time for the second phase of his assignment.

This criminal organization had started by stealing everything they could get their hands on. Supplies were closely monitored and rationed, so anything that went missing created a certain demand of the product. Once a bar remained dry of booze because the last shipment somehow lost half of its content, an individual would simply approach the bartender and discretely offer him to sell him more of it. Of course, the price was much steeper than the price of the usual, and legit, shipment, but since shipments were rationed, there was no way the bar could simply order more of it, and their complaints about not get everything they should have gotten in the last shipment somehow always fell on deaf ears. If those who checked that everything was delivered were in cahoots with the wannabe criminals, Joshua still didn't know, but he had high suspicions that this was the case.

Then, there was a second group of criminals – he didn't know if they worked together with the dealers or not, he doubted it though – who had started a racketeering enterprise, asking bar owners for money in exchange for their _protection_, and if their services weren't accepted, property would end up being damaged.

While he understood that people often chose to live their lives as criminals – something omnipresent on any world, his included – he thought that these people were making a very big mistake; a clear misstep in how they thought things would turn out for them. On a planet, as opposed to in a fleet, such matters were controlled by the police, with laws, procedures and a justice system criminals usually knew very well and knew how to use to their advantage. It wasn't unheard of policemen receiving a cut of the loot, or criminals having lawyers better than most who were capable of getting them out of a jam even when they were caught with their pants down.

But here, they weren't dealing with the police, but with the military, which members were, if not impossible, than at least far more difficult to corrupt than policemen were. If he added the fact that they were at war in which case, if caught, military personnel were under even harsher rules than in peace time, there was really little chance criminals could get protection from them.

And even criminals were risking a lot, because the moment Adama gets pissed off, he'll start tossing people out of the airlock. He after all had better things to worry about than about some criminals inside the civilian fleet. And he was sure Adama wouldn't have any qualm about tossing them out of a ship if it served as a reminder to others that they were _not _on a planet anymore and that things were different here.

And the last straw that should make these criminals think twice before venturing into murky waters should be the fact that, if they were discovered, there wasn't anywhere to run. Not really. Hiding inside a fleet of 70.000 people could work for some time, but sooner or later they would inevitably get caught, and then there would be hell to pay.

As Joshua had suspected, one of the murky people he had noticed several times before, lurking suspiciously in this bar, had finally approached the bartender. Usually, someone who wanted to extort or illegally sell something to the bartender would wait for everyone else to leave the bar, as it was always best not to have any witnesses present. But this time this wasn't the case. Joshua had played the drunk-and-depressed-dude card perfectly, always drinking on the same barstool and looking as if he didn't care for anything that happened around him, and this way making anyone who came repeatedly to the bar think that he was irrelevant and not a threat. And this time it had paid off perfectly. The moment all other guests had left the bar, his intended target had entered the bar, apparently not concerned by Joshua's presence.

As the guy sat on another barstool on the opposite side of the bar, Joshua noticed the annoyed look on the bartender's face. The man definitely knew why this newcomer was here.

The suspect ordered a drink, which the bartender poured into a glass and promptly delivered, even though it was well past closing hour and the bar wasn't serving any more drinks.

He was about to return to his duty, cleaning glasses and putting bottles in their place, but the guy stopped him. "Didn't you forget to give me something?"

The bartender looked back at the man, "You were here _less_ than two weeks ago. I still have a week."

"Yeah, but, there's been a change."

"What kind of change?" the bartender replied, not liking where this was going.

"It's not every two weeks anymore. The new arrangement is _every_ week now."

"Why would you want to come here every week instead of two, just to get half," the bartender replied, playing the dumb card even though he knew what this was all about.

"Not half."

The bartender looked angry, something Joshua didn't like. For this to work, everything needed to go smoothly. "I can't pay that much."

"Oh, come on. Do you think we don't know how much money you make?"

"I think you do, but I also think that you are deliberately forgetting about the expenses."

"What expenses?"

"The booze I need to pay extra if I want to even have something to sell at the end of the week."

"You get your shipment each week and it's enough to last you until the next delivery."

"I get _half _of the shipment each week. For the rest I need to pay extra. If you are _protecting_ this bar, why don't you go and find out why half of the shipment never reaches me."

"We are providing protection against _possible _damage to this establishment, and not for stolen goods."

"How convenient for you. Or rather, how _inconvenient_ for you, since if I can't get _all_ the booze, I can't pay you more than I already do."

"I beg to differ. I am sure that, without our protection, your expenses would be much greater."

The bartender heard the implied threat and knew there was no discussion. He would pay, or he would end up with half of his establishment smashed. He sighed, "Wait here."

The barman went in a separate room on the far side of the bar. The suspect turned in Joshua's direction giving him the evil eye. "What're lookin' at?"

Joshua simply turned to continue looking at his half-filled drink depressingly, the same way as he'd done for the entire time he's been here. He noticed the bartender return with a white envelope. Once he reached the other man, he placed the envelope in the man's already open and expecting palm, but when the man tried to take it, the bartender kept squeezing it tight, while leaning forward and giving the guy an intense look, "Tell your boss that I won't have anything for him next week."

The man smiled at that. It was an unpleasant smile, "I don't think he'd like to hear that."

"It doesn't matter what he likes hearing or not. If you come here next week I'll simply close the bar for good and then you won't get anything out of me anymore."

The man thought about it. "I'll relay your message."

As he said that, the bartender let go of the envelope, "You do that."

The man nodded before taking one last sip from his drink. He got on his feet and began moving out from the bar. Joshua moved quickly to follow, the instant the man had turned his back.

Just outside of the bar, Joshua was already nearing the man in question. As they made a turn, the guy must have sensed that he wasn't alone because he turned his head to look behind, "What do you think…"

It was all the man had managed to say before Joshua stuck the device he was holding in his right hand in the man's neck and depressed the only button on it.

Fifty thousand volts did the rest.

The guy dropped on the floor, convulsing. As if from nowhere, two other guys appeared in the corridor and grabbed the convulsing man on the floor, quickly dragging him away. Joshua followed them.

Inside a small room, Joshua looked at the unconscious man tied on a chair. He nodded to one of the other two marines who were part of his operation, who immediately took a bucket full of water from the floor and promptly emptied it straight in the man's face.

The guy came back to the land of the living, quickly looking around in confusion, "What is this? Who do you work for? Samuel?"

_This is going to be easier than I thought. The man has already given us the name of the competition._

"Who's your boss?" Joshua asked.

"Like I'm gonna tell _you!_" the man replied with a defying smile.

"Of course you are," Joshua replied, with a smile that sent chills down the man's spine. It was almost like watching a smiling hyena, daring him to defy him. "Sooner or later, everybody does."

"Not me! There's nothing you can do to make me talk, and when my people find out about this, you'll _pay!_"

Joshua sighed, shaking his head. He then slowly approached the man, crouching so they could be on the same level, "Look, let me explain who I am and what I do for a living. I was trained by our nice government in interrogation techniques in order to successfully extort information from very dangerous people. During my long carrier, I have interrogated many terrorists, spies and other people _a lot_ scarier than you. And you know what? Every time I interrogated somebody, I always got what I was after… one way or another. So, the only question here is how much you'll be able to _take_ before you crack. Personally, I think the smart thing to do is to tell me what I want to know before I start torturing you. There is not much sense in getting tortured for hours, ending up with broken fingers, electrocuted, burned, drowned or even losing some parts of your body, and only then tell me what I want to know so I would finally stop doing all those things to you… over and over again. Don't you think it is better for you to tell me what I want to know _before_ you lose your foot for example. And mind you, I'm sure there are other parts of your body that you're much more attached to than your foot."

The man was pale like a piece of white paper. From what he could tell, this man would have no qualm doing any of the things he said. "You… you work for the government, and I have rights! You can't do those things to me. I want my lawyer!"

Joshua let out an evil laugh, something the man in the chair really didn't like to hear. He then walked back and took some pliers from the only table in the room and walked in front of the man. He played with the pliers for a minute or so, opening and closing them, while looking at the expression the bound man was making.

"Look at where we are! We are not back home, I'm not a policemen, and there's no justice system with lawyers, judges and juries." Joshua said, leaning forward, very close to the man's face. "I'm your judge, jury _and_ executioner, and once I'm done with you there's nothing preventing me from tossing you through that airlock over there. You'll disappear and no one will even bother to look for you."

The man felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't take his eyes from the big pliers this _insane_ man was playing with in front of him. He could imagine exactly what he intended to do with them, or maybe there was a chance that he _couldn't _imagine everything this man could do with them. Nevertheless, even what he could imagine was more than enough for him to pee himself in his pants.

Joshua noticed the mishap that had happened to the man, but he pretended not to see it. "Well, it appears you won't start talking until I show you how good I am at my work, so let's begin." Joshua said, moving the pliers towards the man's mouth."

"_Stop! I'll talk, I'll talk!" _

Joshua stepped back, "I see you still have some sense in you. Good. And I really believe you've made the right choice. Now, start from the beginning. I want to know everything you know, and always keep in mind that if I find out that you lied to me even once, I'll come back and no matter how much you beg I won't stop until I'm satisfied you won't lie to me ever again. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The man nodded emphatically, "I do… I do. You don't have to worry about that."

And so, the long and _very_ detailed explanation on how, where, why and who is involved in this criminal organization finally began.

…_half an hour later_

Joshua moved away from the terrified and exhausted wannabe criminal and walked next to where the two other marines in the room had been standing the whole time. "Well, I'm confident he gave us everything he knows."

"Who wouldn't? After your little speech about the consequences of not talking, don't know how many people would stay silent. Did you mean all those things you said? I mean, what you'll do to him if he didn't sing like a canary?" one of the marines asked with a lopsided smile.

"You know, this isn't my first rodeo. And every time I had to interrogate a suspect, I never needed to go too far. I found out that usually they are more scared of what you say you're gonna do to them than the actual act. The trick is to make them believe that, in the end, everybody talks. After that, it's a smooth and easy ride," Joshua replied. And it was true too. Sooner or later, everybody talks. If there was a method to train spies on how to keep their mouth shut while tortured, spies on Earth during the cold war wouldn't have poisonous pills embedded into their tooth and ready to be used. They knew that, if caught, it was only a matter of time before they would spill the beans, and the only way to keep a secret was to commit suicide. And the man in the chair was far from being a trained spy or a terrorist with a cause.

Joshua turned and walked back to their prisoner.

The other marine looked at Joshua while he was walking away. Then he turned to face the other marine. "He didn't answer my question though."

"No he didn't," the other marine replied. "Thankfully we won't have to find out how far he _would_ have gone, at least with this one. Let's hope we'll be as fortunate the next time too. That dude is scary though. I can tell you that much."

Joshua approached the prisoner. "You do know what your boss will do to you if he finds out you spilled the beans to us, don't you?"

The prisoner looked at Joshua and nodded. "I do."

"Good. And since you know, I believe it would be smart for you if you get back and pretend this little conversation of ours has never happened. Wouldn't you agree?"

The man nodded again.

"And while you're back, at the end of each week you'll find me at the bar in the same place you saw me sitting today, and you'll tell me everything new you've learned, just like you did today."

The man nodded again.

"Good! From now on, you're my informant. As long as you behave, the little fact that you told me everything there's to know about your little organization will remain a secret. Screw me over even once, and your boss will get a tip that you're working for us. Understood?"

The man nodded again. There was nothing else he could do. He was screwed either way.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. they are always appreciated. **_


	6. Theories

_**Author's note:** Sorry for the longer wait, but I've been very busy lately. Well, without further ado..._

* * *

Adama strode purposefully through the endless maze of corridors aboard his ship. He had been summoned to witness Baltar's latest invention, the one that, in his own words at least, was going to change everything. At the end of the corridor, Adama came in front of a large metallic door, guarded by two marines. As the marines noticed their CO approaching, they promptly opened the door for him. After only a brief salute to the two marines, he proceeded inside, finding himself standing inside what could only be described as a large cargo hold. Inside, there was a lot of empty space, with some sporadic machines placed here and there that Baltar had requested to be brought here, and a large central table. There were a few people inside the room as well, Baltar being one of them, all standing around the central table. Except for Baltar, who was nose deep in whatever he was working on, there were two more marines and another person Adama didn't really like to see. Sylus - or whatever his real name was - was an intelligence officer, one of the few that had been assigned to accompany the fleet on their mission.

Spooks were not well liked by the military, and Adama wasn't an exception in that regard. The constant feeling that they were here more to watch them and then report back, than to help them fight a war, made them more of a nuisance than of any use. The CID being directly controlled by the president, who wasn't very well liked in the military circles, made things even worse. And as the final straw, CID agents aboard a ship had the authority to, at least in theory, take away command from the CO if they deemed it necessary. Of course, such things happened very rarely and only in extreme circumstances, but still, the mere knowledge that he could be deposed by Sylus constantly hanging over him, kept him feeling unease every time he had to deal with the likes of him. It also wasn't common practice to have CID agents aboard ships, not unless the ship in question was part of some covert operation, like when they had some agent infiltrated among pirates and an extraction was needed.

Adama also knew that, soon, one of the CID agents aboard the ship was going to depart with one raptor in order to deliver their report back to the president. He was looking forward when in less than two more months they would be far enough and out of range for the raptors to be sent back.

Adama let his thoughts about the CID agent slide away from his mind, rather concentrating on the real reason he was here.

"Doctor Baltar, what did you discover from the alien ship?" Adama asked.

Baltar stopped working on the large and bulky device in front of him, turning to face the CO, "Oh, Admiral, I didn't notice when you came in. You know, this is very fascinating work." Seeing how the CO didn't really care about his fascination, Baltar decided he should get to the matter at hand and the reason why he'd called the admiral. "Admiral, in short, this technology is eons ahead of us. Just the crystal based computers should give us ten to twenty years worth of study in order to fully understand their inner workings. The rest is even more exciting."

"Doctor Baltar, what I need to know now is if we can use anything from that ship to increase our chances of survival. I don't need it after twenty years of studying the ship. I need it now."

"Of course, of course, and that is exactly the reason why I called you here. Although many systems on the ship were completely destroyed when we brought power to it, I was able to salvage enough to come up with this," Baltar replied, pointing at the very large and very ugly… _thing_ standing on the large table in front of him."

"And what is that?" Adama asked a little puzzled. The device was so big that it couldn't possibly be coming from the alien ship. It was covering the entire table, which wasn't easy to achieve, and it was towering at least a meter over their heads.

"This is a shield generator," Baltar replied simply.

"I don't understand. It shields what?" Adama replied, clueless of what a shield generator actually was, or does.

"A protective shield for the _Galactica_, Admiral," Baltar replied, knowing very well what kind of reaction the sentence would provoke in the CO. And yet, he said it with complete indifference, as if he was delivering today's menu from the mess hall.

Adama blinked twice not certain if he understood correctly, or how to reply. Was this some kind of prank, although the circumstances were not exactly prank worthy, or did he somehow just get teleported in some cheap science fiction movie where shields actually existed? For a very long time, the idea of having protective bubbles around ships fascinated many in the military, but they would all eventually come to the same conclusion, the conclusion that there was no way of creating such protective bubble. But now, Baltar was telling him that he had made a shield generator for the _Galactica_. "Doctor, is this some kind of joke?"

"No Admiral, this is no joke. Using some components from the alien ship, I was able to build a shield generator strong enough to envelope the _Galactica_. Of course, reluctantly I have to admit, the device is much larger than the one on the alien ship was. It is mostly because we have no way of manufacturing the same compact components as those found on the alien ship. And I still need to build six shield emitters that needs to be placed on _Galactica's_ hull, but that will not be a problem."

Adama was still stunned, "And what will this _shield_ be able to do?"

"Well, I'm not certain. Once we build the shield emitters we will be able to test it. The only thing I know for certain is that the shield generator will greatly strain this ship's reactor, and for an unknown amount of protection."

"How much of a strain?"

"Jump drive level strain, I would say. And we still need to see how well it works for a ship the size of a battlestar. After all, even with all the additional capacitor strength I needed to add in order to envelope the entire _Galactica_, the core of the generator is still the one from the alien ship, and that ship is much smaller and easier to envelope."

Jump drive levels of power output meant pushing the reactor at one hundred percent, and the reactor was never intended with such levels in mind for any prolonged time. Still, the possibility of having a shield capable of protecting his ship was making Adama very excited, feeling almost like a schoolboy once again. "Can you guarantee that when you activate this shield generator, the reactor won't overload or stall, or the conduits won't burn out? Because, Doctor, as much as I like the idea of having a shield to protect my ship, I don't want to remain without main power in the middle of a firefight."

"If you give me permission to install separate conduits for the shield generator and a failsafe to protect the reactor from overloading, I can guarantee the safe work of the rest of the ship. This way, if something goes wrong, only the shield generator will stop working, since it would be a completely separate system."

"In that case, you can proceed. Coordinate with Chief Tyrol on how best to lay down the needed conduits. Do you have any more surprises for us, Doctor?"

"I do, but nothing conclusive as of yet. There are many more systems of great interest on board the alien ship. I'm certain the ship had a communications array capable of faster-than-light communication and that the ship's FTL drive was nothing like ours. The drive didn't have a large buffer to store energy like ours have and use while spooling, which would indicate it is some kind of continuous FTL method of propulsion, spending energy during a longer period of time. Unfortunately, the drive is fried beyond my ability to repair it."

"Wait. How do you know they have FTL communication capabilities?"

"While inspecting the ship I discovered a communications array different from anything we have. So I accessed the array's buffer which contained the last message they've sent. The message's destination point is twelve thousand light years from here."

Adama understood. Sending a message twelve thousand light years without the ability to send it at speeds far in excess of the speed of light, was stupid and very much pointless. "It makes sense, Doctor. What about the message itself. Were you able to read it? Do we know what is says?"

"I was able to open it, but I couldn't understand it. The message is not long enough to create a translation matrix," Baltar replied.

Adama was nodding thoughtfully. Although he still disliked the scientist, he at least had to admit the man was a genius. In a very short time he'd been able to accomplish incredible strides with the alien technology the ship contained. "Good job, Doctor. Keep me informed."

As Adama was about to move out, for once after having received some good news, Sylus stepped closer, "Admiral Adama, a word please."

Adama sighed. Whatever this man wanted to talk to him about, he was certain he wasn't going to like it. "Mr. Sylus, we can talk on my way to the CIC."

Sylus nodded, both of them walking out of the cargo hold. "This technology from the alien ship is very interesting."

"Yes, Mr. Sylus, I believe it is, but somehow I think you have something else on your mind you want to discuss."

"I do, Admiral. I believe such technology, and the alien ship, should be sent back to the colonies. This _shield generator_, Doctor Gaius has created, could give as an edge in the war against the Cylons."

"Mr. Sylus, as you no doubt saw inside that room, our esteemed doctor wasn't able to replicate everything. He needed to use components from the alien craft to make it work, which means we cannot copy the technology, not yet anyway. And my main concern right now is the safety of the fleet."

"I understand your point of view, but I urge you to reconsider. This could mean the difference between losing and winning the war, and back in the colonies they would have a better chance to reverse engineer the alien craft."

"Even on this point, I'll have to disagree with you, Mr. Sylus. I believe Doctor Gaius is competent enough to work on this, probably more than anyone back home, and he has _Galactica's_ entire manufacturing and research equipment at his disposal, which have been upgraded before we left Picon Anchorage; something you're well aware of," Adama said, quickly continuing before Sylus could say anything. "Still, I do believe we could send everything that we can't use here as well as all Baltar's findings back home."

"The people back in the colonies need a working prototype in order to replicate it. Baltar's findings and pieces you deem unusable are not enough."

"Mr. Sylus, we have four old warships recuperated from the graveyard to protect more than a hundred civilian ships on a mission that will probably last for years. I will not renounce the chance of an adequate protection for the _Galactica_. Besides, since you were inside that room with me, you very well know how big that shield generator is. There is no way a raptor can transport it next time the CID sends a raptor back."

"No, the raptor isn't, but one of the Defenders is," Sylus said.

Adama snorted loudly, clearly in a derisive fashion. He glanced at the intelligence officer with an incredulous smile. Not only did he want to send possibly the most important advantage they now had back to the colonies, but he wanted one of the only four warships in the fleet to go with it. Thankfully, Gaeta had just walked near them with apparently something to say. It had prevented the admiral for saying something to Sylus he could have regretted later. "Mr. Gaeta, what is it?"

"Admiral, I have just finished sweeping the area around us with our deep space telemetry array, and I think I have found a star system around 150 light years from here that might have at least one habitable planet in it."

"You believe it is worth checking?" the Admiral asked.

"I do, but the problem is that the system is almost at 90 degrees from our current course. It is not a negligible detour."

Adama thought about it. They shouldn't be deviating so much from their planned course, but finding a habitable planet could be a very important finding. "Mr. Gaeta, please make the necessary course change. I still have to talk to the vice president and see what she thinks, but I think she'll agree it is worth checking."

"Of course, sir. I'll make the changes," Gaeta replied before leaving.

Adama turned and saw Sylus was still standing next to him, apparently with no intention of leaving him alone. Adama wasn't about to continue the pointless conversation.

"Good day, Mr. Sylus." Adama said, turning abruptly and fastening his pace. This conversation was over.

Sylus didn't follow. He understood there wouldn't be any more discussion on the matter. He didn't like it, but he knew Adama wouldn't give in. The only choice remaining if he wanted to have it his way was to depose Adama and take control of the fleet, which was in his power to do. But he wasn't ready to do that. The fleet was far away from home, and if he tried to remove Adama, there was a good chance the Admiral could order his marines to toss him out of an airlock, or at least toss him in the brig, and he was certain the marines would follow Adama's orders in that eventuality without hesitation. Adama hadn't done anything so serious to lose the respect of the people under him.

Not yet.

And he needed to send a raptor back into Colonial space. He'll then have to wait and see what the president's orders would be after he learns of what exactly is going on with the Expeditionary Fleet.

* * *

Adar leaned back in his chair, placing both of his hands behind his head. The latest news he had received were far from encouraging. The Cylons were making raids on every planet in the colonies, planets that, as far as his military advisers were telling him, were not properly defended. The result of the lack of adequate orbital defenses meant the military needed to use every available ship to accomplish the same, constantly having to keep them ready to jump whenever and wherever needed. And using a battlestar to chase down a group of raiders that had just jumped in orbit of a planet was far from an adequate use of their limited resources. Currently, the colonies had around two hundred warships at their disposal, but when that number has to be spread across ten planets and other outposts, the result was to have less than twenty ships orbiting each planet, and that was not counting Caprica and Geminon that were occupied. No matter how they intended to spread their fleet around a planet, the Cylons would simply jump where there wasn't any ship in the vicinity, take a few potshots at the planet below before they could even scramble their vipers, and then simply jump away and disappear. At least ground defenses were able to intercept the few fired nukes before they could reach the ground, but it was only a matter of time before the Cylons succeeded in at least a few of them hitting their intended targets. Thus far, the damage on the surface had been minimal, mostly done by raiders that would boldly enter inside the atmosphere and target a few cities with conventional weapons, usually getting destroyed as reward.

And the Cylons weren't even the worst problem Adar was having. The economy was in shamble, mostly as a result of the destruction of Caprica's industry, but also because of the import of goods from other planets in the Colonies has taken a severe hit. Many transport ships had been destroyed, and those that were still available were asking ridiculously high prices, stating that their lives were at stake and that if they had to risk them, they should at least be compensated properly. The worst problem was the transfer of food from Aerilion to other planets that had sustained damage to their food industry. With less food on these planets, prices were rising fast, and if this trend were to continue for any longer, people could start getting out on the streets in protest. And Adar could not afford it. After all, elections were around the corner. Less than two months away.

After having knocked several times and finally having received confirmation, Admiral Nagala entered the president's office, "Mr. President, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Admiral. I did," the president said while reclining back in his chair. "Please take a seat, Admiral."

The Admiral complied and sat on the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Admiral Nagala, a CID raptor stationed on the _Galactica_ just returned with some very interesting news," the president said, his face showing his unhappiness.

Nagala immediately picked up on it, thinking something bad must have happened. "Did something happen to Adama's fleet?"

"No, Admiral. Well, yes it has – one of the destroyers, the _Delphi_ I believe, was destroyed by the Cylons, but that isn't what concerns me the most at the moment," the president replied.

Nagala saddened at hearing one of the destroyers had been destroyed. The ship held more than five hundred people on board. Even worse, if this wasn't the worst that concerned the president, there was a good chance something much worse had happened to the fleet. Maybe some civilian ships had been destroyed too, with all people on board having been lost.

And this was also confirming his suspicions. "This is bad news. It also confirms my concern that the Cylons _are_ after the fleet."

"Yes, yes. It is possible that the Cylons want to prevent the Expeditionary Fleet from reaching the Thirteenth Colony, but again, at the moment, what concerns me is something else," the president continued. "It appears that the Fleet stumbled onto some kind of alien ship while they were visiting an uninhabited system."

"Alien ship, sir? What kind of alien ship?" Nagala asked, puzzled. He thought they were talking about the Fleet's losses.

"Well, they weren't able to determine whose ship it was, but what they are certain is that it doesn't belong to us or the Cylons. Apparently, the technology the ship uses is something completely different from what we or the Cylons have, and the technology looks to be very advanced. So advanced, apparently, that Dr. Gaius Baltar was able to use some of the craft's components to build a shield for the _Galactica_."

"Shield sir?"

"Yes, a shield capable of protecting an entire ship. I do not need to tell you how important that discovery could be for us."

"I do understand, sir. If this is true, our ships could become several times more powerful… and safer. In that case, even a smaller fleet could be able to fight an even larger Cylon Fleet and come out victorious." Nagala knew the Mercury class could go toe to toe against a baseship with ease, but their fleet wasn't all made of ships like the _Pegasus_.

"Exactly," the president said. "Unfortunately, Admiral Adama refused to send this shield generator Dr. Baltar has managed to develop back to us, even when the CID agent on board told him of the importance of this device reaching home and what it could mean for us if we could study it. The agent was barely able to convince Adama to send the Doctor's notes and research he'd done on the alien craft as well as few smaller components they didn't have any use for, but that we could still study here."

"Did the agent say why Admiral Adama refused?"

"Admiral Adama's excuse was that sending the device back home would put the Fleet in danger since, because of its large size, its transportation would need at least a destroyer. And since the device cannot be replicated, the _Galactica_ would also remain without the advantage the device gives her if they are attacked by the Cylons again."

Nagala thought about it, and even though he could understand the importance of such discovery, he could also understood Adama's reasoning. In his place, he would probably have done the same. "I'm sorry, sir, but from how I understand it, Admiral Adama was correct in his decision. At least if that's all there is to know from the report."

The president snorted loudly, "Nonsense, Admiral. This shield generator could give us the edge we need against the Cylons, and Admiral Adama is keeping it to himself. Does he not care what happens to the Colonies?"

Nagala's eyebrow rose. Did the president not understand how the military works? "I'm sorry, sir, but I disagree with your assessment of admiral Adama's reasoning, and responsibilities. He received a specific task. His mission is to find the Thirteenth Colony and to protect the civilian fleet during their voyage. Giving away an advantage such as a shield generator capable of protecting the _Galactica_ alone would greatly decrease the chances of the mission's success, but the need to send away one of the only four warships at his disposal in order to deliver the device is even more damaging. No commander would ever risk his mission in such a way."

"Admiral, don't you understand the importance of this device for the Colonies?"

"I do understand, sir, and I also agree that the device could be exactly what we need to win this war, but from admiral Adama's point of view, he wasn't tasked with the protection of the Colonies. His task is to protect the Expeditionary Fleet and find the Thirteenth Colony, nothing more and nothing less, and that's exactly what he's trying to do. I repeat, in his place, I would have done the same."

Adar was slowly but surely getting angrier and angrier. "Well, if that is the case, we will have to give Admiral Adama new instructions, won't we? Admiral Nagala, you are ordered to form a task force. Its mission will be to _find _the Expeditionary Fleet and retrieve the shield generator from the _Galactica_, by any means necessary."

Nagala was pissed, "Sir, such task force would need to have enough elements to _enforce_ those orders, if by 'by all means' you mean take the device with force if necessary. I was under the impression that we couldn't send more ships with the Expeditionary Fleet because those ships are needed here to protect the Colonies. Are you now telling me that we can _spare_ ten warships for this task?"

Adar was getting really pissed. This was bordering to insubordination. "That is exactly what I am saying, yes!"

"And you realize, _sir,_ that, if we send those ships to find Adama's Fleet, the task force will probably have to stay away from the Colonies for a _very_ long time? Possibly several months."

"What's your point, Admiral?"

"Well, in this case my point is that I can't, with a clear conscience, approve the mission to free Caprica, without those ships here. We simply don't have enough ships to protect our other planets and outposts, send such a task force to chase Adama's fleet, _and _form a fleet to free Caprica and keep it free for a week," Nagala replied.

This was a problem. Adar needed Caprica free for the duration of the elections, at least for the final week before the voting. Only that could give him the votes needed to win. "Are you telling me that ten ships will make such a difference?"

"Mr. President, the plan to free Caprica was... um... dubious even without the need to send a task force to find the Expeditionary Fleet. With it, liberating Caprica could cost us a lot more than we are prepared for. If the Cylons decide to attack some other planet or anchorage point while our fleet is tied in Caprica's orbit, the result could be nothing short of catastrophic."

Adar didn't like hearing it, and the worst part was that he could even see the logic. Losing another planet while liberating Caprica could be devastating. If that were to happen, he would have no chance of being reelected. He would probably end up being ridiculed as the worst Commander in Chief in the history of the Colonies, and his opponents would most certainly point out how he used this ill planned mission of freeing Caprica only because of the elections. He really didn't like what he was hearing, and worse he didn't know how to accomplish everything he wanted.

Or maybe there was a chance to get away with it, even if the worst came to pass. He could always say that the military had given him false hopes. He could say that _they _had been overconfident with their estimates and this way drop the blame on them. It could work, but he also knew Nagala wasn't that stupid. Nagala would definitely want his opposition to this plan in writing. He would want insurance he wouldn't be blamed if things went wrong. So, he knew this wouldn't work either, but he needed to find some way to get everything. "What if we work under the impression that Adama will _willingly _relinquish the device, without putting up a resistance? In such case, we wouldn't need to send ten warships, would we?"

Nagala wanted to roll his eyes, even in front of the president and be damned, but he managed to keep his composure and instead only raise an eyebrow. "It could work, but in this case Adama will have the upper hand, especially if his ship is the only one on the fleet protected by a shield. I don't know how strong this shield is, but I wouldn't recommend forcing his hand with only a few ships. And that means the task force could very well return home empty handed. Also, if the Cylons get intel of this, and there are only a few ships in the task force, they could easily overwhelm them, and capture the technology we so desperately need."

"I realize that. Still, I don't see any other option."

"There is one option."

The president gave an expectant look. He had the slight feeling he wasn't going to like whatever Nagala was about to say, especially since he was the one proposing it, but hope is always the last to die, so... "Which is?"

"We could relay new orders to Adama to return to the Colonies together with the task force."

"That is out of the question. His mission is to find the Thirteenth Colony and keep the civilian fleet safe to start anew if something happens to us," Adar replied, not mentioning that he liked having Roslin far away from the colonies even more.

Nagala sighed visibly. The president was apparently the type of guy who wanted to have the cake and eat it too. Nagala was of the opinion that Adama would follow orders if they formally came from him, and that he would relinquish the device without putting up a fight, but he couldn't be certain, especially with the current state of Adama's fleet. Adama had already lost one ship, and it appeared his fear of the Cylons going after the Expeditionary Fleet was well-founded. Adama would fight tooth and nail in order to keep any advantage he had.

And of course he didn't like the president. On one side, the president was pretending to have high hopes for the Expeditionary Fleet in finding the Thirteenth Colony and for the safety of the civilians in it, and yet it appeared as if he was hell bent on wanting it to fail. The shield generator could indeed prove to be invaluable to the colonies, but the question that troubled him was why the research Baltar did wasn't enough? Why did they need a working generator? If Baltar, with the fully upgraded manufacturing and research capabilities of the _Galactica_ wasn't able to duplicate the generator, why did the president think things would be different if the generator was brought here? Especially in the short time before the Cylons showed up in force. Maybe in a few years they could reverse engineer the prototype, but definitely not quickly enough.

Nagala sighed mentally. In the end, the president was in charge, no matter if he was a moron or not.

"Very well, Mister President, I will instruct the _Pegasus_, with an escort of two Valkyrie battlestars to find the Expeditionary Fleet and retrieve the generator."

"Good," the president replied, finally satisfied. "Let's now talk about another piece of information that was in the report I've just received. It appears the Fleet has already made contact with the Thirteenth Colony."

"They did?" Nagala was puzzled. This information should have been at the beginning of this conversation. "How?"

"During a Cylon attack, the _Colonial One _was damaged and her jump drive malfunctioned. It jumped to a different location than the rest of the Fleet, without the possibility of jumping again. From what vice president Roslin and the rest of the ship's crew told the CID agent, they were rescued by one of their ships. After that, they were tended to full health and their ship was repaired of all damage," the President relayed the information.

"But, that is great news, sir," Nagala replied, ecstatic at the idea they have found a friend ready to help their people in need.

"I wouldn't jump to such conclusions just yet, Admiral," the president promptly replied. "What they've told Roslin is of great concern for us. First, the Terrans, as they call themselves, told Roslin that they're not the Thirteenth Colony. They went to such length as to give her a piece of pottery that tests show is more than seven thousand years old."

Nagala blinked in puzzlement, "Seven thousand years? That predates both our and Thirteenth's departure from Kobol, by at least three thousand years!"

"Yes, but do not make the mistake of believing it, Admiral. From what Roslin told the CID agent, and he and I completely agree on this, they have the technology to falsify such evidence and we think they did exactly that. Actually, the man who gave her the proof told her that much. The question that troubles me is - why would they lie?"

Nagala had the same question ringing in his mind. This didn't make any sense whatsoever. Give proof, and then tell they have the ability to fake it. There was no sense in doing so, not at all.

"I see you have the same puzzled expression as the one I first had when I read the report. But there is more. Roslin was able to extort more information from the man. I don't know if it was given willingly, if it was only lies, or if it was a slip, but it appears their religious beliefs are very different from ours. The man said that they have many religions on their world, but that most of them are monotheistic. Many religions, but mostly with one single god, or, if not, they are atheists."

"They do not believe in the Gods of Kobol?"

"No, they don't. As far as I'm concerned I don't much care in what they do or don't believe, but I do fear it could create some schism between our people if we were to meet. We had some trouble with a religious group that believed in one god in the past, as you probably recall, and although things are better now, people still marginalize those who believe in one god. Some fanatics would probably want for us to have no ties with these people, and the fact that our own religion has died on their world could also make some trouble," Adar said, noticing the puzzled look on Nagala's face. "The man mentioned a religion that sounds the same as ours, but that it almost completely died out a long time ago. And yet, their ship is called _Prometheus_, of all names."

"_Prometheus_, sir? The one who defied the Gods?"

"That one, yes." The president replied. "And the worst part hasn't come up yet."

Nagala raised an eyebrow. This was getting better and better. "The worst part, sir?"

"Yes, the worst part," the president repeated somberly. "As expected, Roslin asked their help in fighting the Cylons, which they categorically declined to provide."

Nagala's eyes widened. "Did they explain why, sir?"

"Oh, they did. The man, I think his name's Doctor Daniel Jackson, told her that they don't have enough information to know on which side to side on, _if _they even want to side with anyone, and that at this moment they actually have no intention of participating in this war."

Nagala's jaw dropped. "What… What do they _mean _by on whose side to side on? They are machines for frak's sake! Oh, pardon, sir." Nagala ended, suddenly remembering with whom he was speaking.

"No, Admiral, I think your reaction is dead on. The same reaction I had when I first heard."

"Did they give an explanation?"

"Again, they did. They explained to the vice president that, when they found out the Cylons were planning to kill us all, they acted quickly to prevent it - that's when they sent the virus to counteract the Cylon virus - but upon further investigation they found that _we _are the one responsible for the break of the armistice."

"What?"

"Yes, they say they have knowledge that two years ago we broke the agreement with the Cylons and went behind the Red Line. Do you have any knowledge of that?" the president concluded.

"No, sir, I don't." He lied. "And even if it was true, we certainly wouldn't leave such information lying around for everybody to find."

"And yet, they said they have knowledge of it. I was stunned too." Adar was keeping his poker face, but he was actually of the opinion these Terrans had indeed accessed their system, and found documents even he didn't know existed, probably hidden somewhere in the military mainframe.

Nagala knew very well about the incident, but it was a black op operation the president wasn't privy of. He also understood one other thing. If the Terrans have a virus capable of fighting the Cylons', then they could have ways to access even their most secure systems. And that would mean they have penetrated the military mainframe on Picon, the only place where any evidence of the plan the Admiralty had concocted has been stored. If their viruses were capable of fighting the Cylons, _and win_, there was probably no system safe from them. They could have accessed everything that's stored in digital form, and that was especially true after the Cylon attack and the mayhem that ensued as a result. "I do not understand, sir. They helped us prevent the Cylons from committing genocide, and now they are unwilling to help us, or even side with us. And the point on who's side they think of siding on, doesn't make sense either. They stopped the Cylon virus, so we know they are not planning to side with them. At this point, the Cylons most certainly think they are an enemy."

"Exactly! And that fact shows us their real intentions," the president replied, apparently having some planet-shattering revelation ready to be delivered.

"Intentions, sir?" Nagala asked. He still wasn't privy to the president's massive insight he knew was about to come next.

"Don't you see!? They've planned everything perfectly. They stopped the attack of the Cylons so they wouldn't win, but they didn't stop them completely. The Cylons were still able to inflict massive damage and _weaken _us. More than that, now there's no stopping the war between us and the Cylons, which is exactly what they want. We will kill each other while they stay on the sidelines and watch, not losing even a single man or ship. And when the war is over, no matter whose side wins, they can swoop in and finish off whoever remains standing because, both, we or the Cylons will be greatly weakened by the war. It's the perfect plan."

Nagala's jaw dropped, his eyes flied wide open, and even his left eyebrow threatened to rise, all combined completely distorting his face. This was the stuff of nightmares… and pretty paranoid thinking too if somebody asked him. He wasn't even surprised the president would come up to this conclusion either, since he knew who was feeding the president's head with strange ideas, the most paranoid group in the Colonies._ The CID!_

He wasn't so sure he would come to the same conclusion so quickly. He did think it was possible, as in, everything was possible, but this was definitely the worst of the worse possible scenarios. He was still of the opinion that even with this disturbing intel they'd just received from the Expeditionary Fleet, they still had too little information to know for certain what this _Terrans_ were planning. "I see. This is a pretty dark scenario, Mister President."

"Oh, that definitely is, but that doesn't make it untrue. Of course, there's another theory the CID has postulated."

"Which is?"

"Before leaving, the _Colonial One_ was able to see the Terran ship in its entirety, and take some rudimentary scans; the _Colonial One_ unfortunately doesn't have much in terms of scanning capabilities. Anyway, it was a small ship, no more than two hundred and fifty meters in length. It did have some weapons emplacements on it, which definitely makes it a warship. From that, the CID has concluded there's a chance the Terrans actually used the virus as a means to stop the Cylons because their military is not as strong as the show of advanced technology would suggest they are. They actually don't have the ability to fight the Cylons, or us for that matter, with their ships. Therefore, they used their more advanced understanding of computers to stop the Cylons, and without having to engage them directly in battle. This theory also doesn't necessarily negate the first one though."

"I can't make an estimate until I see the data the _Colonial One_ has collected, and even then I'm not certain I can give a solid estimate of their ship's capabilities. Size alone is not enough to determine their strength, especially if they have shields to protect their ships."

"That's unfortunately true. If the small craft the _Galactica_ has recovered is theirs, they most certainly have shields, and they were probably able to upgrade them from what the craft had since the craft was more than a hundred years old. But neither scenario is very appealing, I'm afraid. In the first scenario, they are enemies, only waiting for our war to weaken us and the Cylons before they strike. And in the second scenario they are probably not a threat, but they can't help us either."

"I agree. Both scenarios are grim if looked from our perspective. But, sir, if that's true, why aren't you ordering the recall of the Expeditionary Fleet?"

"Because we can't be certain any of these scenarios are what's really going on. There could still be other explanations. For one, I don't understand why they helped _Colonial One_. They could have destroyed it - easy enough to do since it's a civilian ship and even more so since it was damaged - or they could have just left it powerless in space, which they for some reason didn't do. For them, it would have been the most logical thing to do. Except of course if their rescue was to specifically _give_ Roslin enough information for the Expeditionary Fleet to turn around and go back. If they don't want us to find Earth, it could have been a ruse so that Roslin would believe nothing good can come out from their continuous voyage."

"It's possible. If the Fleet is on the right track to find Earth, they could have used the unfortunate event of the _Colonial One_ having been damaged to convince them to turn around and stop searching for Earth."

"And there's also another piece of information, something the CID agent aboard _Galactica_ believes to be true, and that is of great concern. When they found the alien craft and tried to power it, the craft engines and control system blew up. They quickly came up to the conclusion that the craft overloaded because of the incompatibility in our and their power systems, but the agent is of a different opinion. He can't be sure, but to him it is very strange that such a craft, that is more advanced than ours, doesn't have a power regulation system capable of compensating for the difference in the two systems."

"Sabotage?" Nagala replied, understanding where the president was going with this.

"I'm afraid so, which means the Fleet has been infiltrated," the president concluded.

"But how? Everybody in the fleet has been…" Nagala started saying something, but then stopped abruptly. "Of course, if they have the ability to create viruses so advanced that they can counter the Cylons', they could have infiltrated our systems. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to think they can falsify a few personal records. And with so many people having died on Caprica, they could have switched the identity of someone with their agent's identity," Nagala thought out loud. This was just great. Not only have they been infiltrated by the human form Cylons, but by the Thirteeners too, who apparently weren't so friendly after all, "which means we could have spies even here in the colonies."

"I'd have to agree. The agent assigned to the _Galactica_ hasn't told this to anyone, not even to Adama. He believes that keeping his suspicions a secret is paramount, and I have to agree. Since we don't know who the foreign agent is, telling others could tip him off."

"I understand his reluctance to share his suspicions, but surely even he doesn't believe Adama is an agent!" Nagala replied skeptically. "Because if _he's _a spy, it would mean we were infiltrated during the first war."

"We can't rule it out, but I too believe Adama is not a spy, and the agent told me the same in his report. But this isn't the reason why he's keeping it secret. He knew that if he brought his suspicions to Adama, he would have started an investigation into the matter on the spot without thinking twice, and that would have been premature. He wants us to gather as much intel on everybody who went with the Fleet and have it sent to him. Maybe records can be falsified, but people must have _friends_ or acquaintances who know how they look like, which means we can find those people and ask them if they know them and find out if their identities have been stolen. And if they _don't _have friends, then chances are those identities were specifically targeted because nobody could check how they look. In both cases, these people need to go to the top of the list of suspects. The agent can then check who had access to the alien craft and compare it with the list we are going to send him. So, your job is to check out our military personnel that have been detached to the Expeditionary Fleet, while the CID does the same with the civilians. We can't rule out anyone."

"Understood, I'll get people right on it."

"You do that, but _be sure_ those you task with the job are _our _people. Their identity must be checked and rechecked beyond any doubt."

"Of course," Nagala replied a little annoyed. Who did the president think he was? An amateur?

"Good. When do you think the ships and the security checks will be ready?" the president asked. There was no time to waste.

"A week."

"That's acceptable. In a week I need the task force to get underway. It will take them a lot of time to find the Fleet. So, the sooner they are underway the better."

"Sir, another thing. Is there a chance we can send a few older ships we rescued from the graveyard with the task force to supplement Adama's fleet? I mean, Adama would be more willing to give us the shield generator if we send a few ships his way, even older ones, as a sort of compensation."

Adar wanted to roll his eyes. Nagala was really pushing it. But, on the other hand, if this resulted in Adama being more willing to relinquish the device, he could easily do without a few older ships. "You give me a list of ships you can prepare in a week, and I'll think about it. Of course, that is if you are certain we can do without them here."

"I am. We have a lot of previously mothballed ships we have resurrected, and the needed personnel are not a problem either. Ever since the war re-started we've been swamped with new recruits, and those in reserve have all already been reactivated," Nagala explained, thinking how Adama would like to receive some old friends who had been placed in the reserve. And he also knew the president didn't understand what an old ship was capable of. He knew the president thought of those mothballed ships like pieces of junk, only good as cannon fodder, but he knew that wasn't true. After the upgrade, in the same way as the _Galactica_ had been upgraded, those ships would be more than capable of fighting the Cylons. After all, if you place the newest in missiles, heavy cannons and railguns on them, their offensive capabilities would be almost the same as of more modern ships. And the fact that their systems were not networked, in the way systems were networked on newer ships, iwould probably appeal to Adama even more than if he were to receive the new Valkyries.

"All right, Admiral, I'll take the matter under consideration. I think I gave you enough work for now," Adar replied.

Nagala knew the conversation was over, and he did have a lot to do and not much time to do it. "Yes, sir, I'll get right on it."

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They are always appreciated.**_


	7. Surprises

**Author's note: Nothing smart to say here. So I want say anything.**

**Reviews:**

**Guest (the first one): **I'm trying to make characters work with the limited knowledge they have at a certain point in the story, like Adar having only information that he has received from the CID agent. In such circumstances it would actually be less believable if he made the correct assumption on what's really going on. The same as other characters in the story.

**Shane: **When we have very little information to work with, we do tend to make the worst possible assumptions. Sometimes, even come up with paranoid theories.

**Slikef: **I'm glad you like it.

**Guest (the annoying one):** Are you for real? Not only you're pestering me with the same rhetoric for three weeks now, but you're now also telling me which BSG episodes I should use for reference and which I shouldn't, all in order to conform with your view. And you are still of the opinion that Daniel should _somehow_ have watched the series, Black Market, Blood and Chrome and whatnot and used them to form his opinion, as well as to know events that didn't even happen yet in my story. Or that ever will, like Baltar and that Church of his. I really don't understand how can you think that fictional characters in any story should know everything from the show a story is based on. Or, for that matter, that I can't add different elements in the Colonial's background (that differ from your view) in _my own story_. Unbelievable.

And the reason I deleted your previous review was because I was pissed at your lack of even the smallest shred of decency after I explicitly asked you to use a real account if you want to discuss this at length, so that I don't have to use chapters as a method to reply. How long does it take? 15 seconds to login? A minute to register? But, apparently, it all fell on deaf ears. And somehow I'm not even surprised.

And do you even realize that this is the third review (deleted one included) with the _same_ arguments? The story moved on, and I got your opinion loud and clear the first time. I don't care for it, and it won't change what I write, but I got it. No need to repeat it over and over, expecting me to change something because of it. Besides, you know what Einstein said about doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. And no, he didn't have _tenacity_ in mind when he said it.

Only two things are important here. First, this is a work of fiction, set in an alternate universe and based on two other works of fiction, and if I want to make the Colonials green, little and fury aliens bent on domination, I'll make them green, little, fury and, guess what, I'll make them bent on domination too. And second, if you hate this story so much, simply stop reading it. Write your own if you like, with your own view and whatnot. Send me the link and I'll read it too.

And also, please stop comparing the USSR and USA, with the Colonials and Cylons. It is uncanny. As far as I know, and I'm hoping you know that too, the people in the USSR and USA are of the same species, they never waged open war against each other, hence were never in a state of declared _armistice_ like the Cylons and Colonials were for forty years after a decade of fighting, and most importantly they were never bent on committing genocide against each other. And these are all pretty big differences you should have taken into account when you compared them (if you really had to compare them at all). So, as far as comparisons go, yours is a really bad one.

And now you don't even like me using the name _Terrans. _I see you got your priorities straight on what's important in a story.

This is the last time I'll reply to you through a chapter. And I _will_ delete any review you send with a _guest_ account. I can't be any clearer than this.

**dude & frozen dude: **never planned to make Cain insane. She'll be tough and maybe even opinionated and stubborn, but not insane. Also, keep in mind that I'm writing only what characters can know at a certain point, and not what _I_ know to be true from the show. They don't know what happened in Blood and Chrome, therefore they can't form opinions based on that. And also keep in mind that my other (main) story defines at which point Earth currently is. Do not think they are at the point where the show left off, or somewhere during the show. And tactics can go only so far to negate tech advantage. You can be the greatest tactician in the world, but if you have a spear and your opponent is inside a tank, there's not much you can do.

_**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll like this chapter too.**_

* * *

"Lieutenant Gaeta, are we ready to jump?" Adama asked.

They'd already spent more than enough time in this system, and since their water reserves were now topped up, there was really no reason to delay their mission any further. Adama didn't like what the vice president had to say about her encounter with, as they called themselves, the _Terrans_. The information that they're not willing to help them in the war against the Cylons, or worse, that they might side _with_ the other side, was mind blowing to say the least. Plus, the piece of pottery they'd given the president, and that Baltar readily confirmed, without a shred of doubt, _was _in fact seven thousand years old, really didn't sit well with Adama. He'd listened to the vice president saying how there was a good chance the presented evidence might be a forgery, something that, with their apparently more advanced technology, was at least a possibility, but the thing that was troubling him the most was that he didn't know why they would do it. Why fake it?

When somebody wants to lie, he usually makes that lie a believable one, the most it could possibly be, and trying to convince them that their civilization was older than the time when the Thirteenth Colony left Kobol, simply wasn't a lie that would make them believe in anything they have to say.

_Just the opposite!_

Personally, he would never concoct such a lie, simply because it served no purpose other than to confuse. And this fact was what was nagging at him, and making him doubt if it was a lie at all, especially since the man telling it confirmed that they _could_ have fabricated such piece of evidence.

Baltar, on the other hand, had been more than certain they could not have forged it. The good doctor was naïve that way, even after having witnessed the existence of technology far more in advance than what the Colonies knew to even be possible, Baltar had been adamant the piece of clay had been heated seven thousand years ago, and that there was no way to fake that. Then Adama, out of the blue, had asked Baltar if it was maybe possible that the Terrans had returned to Kobol and had taken some vase that had been on the planet seven thousand years ago. After all, there must be some evidence of them having lived there still on the planet, even from seven or even more thousands of years ago. At that, the good doctor had finally shut up. In less than a minute Adama had come up with one possible explanation that didn't even have anything to do with the need to use some ultra-mega-awesome technology to make the forgery.

And yet, the nagging didn't stop, or subsided, even by a little. He was certain the Terrans had lied about something, but he didn't know about which part. And the sad truth was that, if they weren't descendants from the Thirteenth Colony, the answer on why they weren't joining them in the fight against the Cylons was at the very least plausible. They were a completely separate race from the Colonies, and in their eyes, the Colonies were a completely separate race and possibly as guilty for the break of the armistice with the Cylons as the Cylons were, or maybe even more so since they had created, and then enslaved the Cylons in the first place. Plus, that pouch in their stomach they'd found in the desiccated corpse of the craft's pilot, and the DNA test that showed how different from them these people were even on a genetic level, screamed loud warning bells in his head. They were a different race, maybe even more different than the difference between the human form Cylons and the Colonials' genetic makeup. After all, it had been easier to find DNA differences between the Colonials and the long dead pilot, than it was between them and the Cylons. Only recently Doctor Baltar had found a way to test people and see if they were Cylons, and the worst part was that it wasn't a simple DNA test! A simple DNA test would show a Cylon was the same as any other Colonial, and only a detailed mapping of a good portion of a subject's genome would show any difference. Hence, the only difference they could quickly test was the discovered difference in the quantities of metals in their bloodstream.

All this was making Adama very nervous, almost enough to turn the fleet and return home with all due haste. But, he couldn't do that. He had his orders and he was going to follow them until told otherwise.

"Yes, sir, all ships have confirmed their readiness to jump," Lieutenant Gaeta replied.

Adama woke up from his reverie, "In that case, let's get this fleet on her way."

"Yes sir," Gaeta replied, activating the countdown and inserting the jump-key in the apposite keyhole.

The fleet jumped.

* * *

"Jump complete, sir," Gaeta replied. "All ships present."

"Good, what can you tell…" Adama began speaking, but he was cut short by the ships loud alarm blazing throughout the CIC. "Lt. Gaeta, talk to me. What do we have?"

"Cylons, sir. Five baseships with raiders already in the air. They'll be upon us in ten minutes."

"And how long before the fleet can jump away?"

"Too long, sir. At least twenty minutes," Gaeta replied, starting to feel very frustrated about their computers having the processing power of a hamster. If the computer was just a little slower, he would find the coordinates faster with a pencil and a piece of paper.

This was Adama's usual luck. They jumped straight into a system with even more Cylon ships than they'd previously had to face. "Sound general quarters, launch all vipers. And move the Galactica directly in front of the rest of the fleet, with the Columbia and the destroyers just behind us."

Gaeta glanced at Adama with a questioning look. This wasn't the standard formation. "Why the Columbia behind us?"

"Because I want the Cylons to target the Galactica first," Adama replied, without any further explanation. He was looking at the DRADIS console trying to see what kind of attack formation the Cylons were employing. So far, the raiders were keeping close to their capital ships, which meant they would enter weapons range together. Usually that would be a bad thing, having to deal with all of them at once, but in this case it might actually work in their favor.

"The Galactica is now in front of the rest of the Fleet, sir. Time to weapons range, two minutes," Gaeta replied.

Adama nodded without saying anything, while intently watching the DRADIS. The Cylons were closing in fast. "All right. Bring the shield online, and let's hope it works, because if Baltar's contraption doesn't work… we are _frakked!"_

Before the Cylons entered weapons range, a translucent golden barrier began to shimmer, flickering on and off a few times all around the Galactica, before finally steadying and becoming completely invisible. Moments later, the rows of flak cannons on the ship's starboard side erupted in an endless stream of bullets, the same as the Columbia's staying slightly behind in their formation. The raiders, the first of the Cylons forces to enter weapons range, replied in kind, firing railguns and missiles, all targeting the closest ship, the _Galactica_. As bullets and missiles reached the massive battlestar, the golden shield became visible again everywhere impacts occurred.

* * *

Aboard one of the Cylons ships, the group of human form Cylons was intently watching the battle unfold. This was a great opportunity that had presented itself, literally out of the blue. One they were not prepared to waste.

"Raiders have engaged the Galactica," Three said to the rest of the human form Cylons, while watching the display on the table in front of her. "Baseships will be in weapons range in thirty seconds."

Seconds passed by, with all present gleefully awaiting the moment when the baseships would be able to add their own fire. Thirty seconds later, the baseships began firing, sending droves of missiles at a time. But even at this early point in the battle, Six was looking at the tactical display with a deep frown. Something wasn't right.

"The Galactica is pushing forward, deeper inside our weapons envelope. Why is the ship in front of the other battlestar?" Six asked.

Three watched the tactical display as well, with a deep frown. This almost looked like a suicide run, and she knew there was nothing to gain by sacrificing their lead ship. And yet, the tactic employed wasn't the only strange thing. "Is something wrong with the tactical display?"

"Why are you asking?" One asked.

"Because, the information we are getting doesn't make any sense. From it, it looks like the Galactica is sustaining only minute damage, which is impossible under so much firepower. She's the only ship we are targeting." Three explained.

Six was now noticing the same thing. The tactical display wasn't a visual representation of the battle. Instead, it was displaying the entire battle theater, with ships represented by small icons with only vague information about the hull's sustained damage and the status of the ship's systems like weapons, propulsion system and others. And even though the ship was being showered with bullets and missiles, there was very little damage being done to the hull, and all weapons were still fully operational, which was literally impossible. The only logical conclusion was that the display or their sensors were malfunctioning, but that was also impossible because it would mean that all five baseships' sensors had simultaneously decided to break down, since they were all connected in their battlenet.

Six clicked the icon representing the Galactica. The display changed, showing only the single ship in much more details and with additional information scrolling next to it. She put on a deep frown again, not fully understanding the readings she was getting. Spectrum analysis was showing strange emissions originating from all around the ship, almost like a spherical halo, with a lot of sudden spikes on the starboard side, the one facing their fleet.

And then it finally dawned on her. Six's eyes widened in shock, "Oh God!"

One flinched at Six's sudden outburst. "What!?"

Six looked at One, still in shock. "Look!" she said, pointing at the starboard side of the represented _Galactica_ on the table. "You see those spikes? Those are bullets and missiles impacting a… _a barrier!_"

"A what?" One asked, still not understanding.

"The Galactica has a barrier all around her, and it's preventing most of our weapons from hitting the ship!"

One's eyes widened as well. "_That's impossible!_ It is not possible to…" One stopped talking. Yes, as far as he knew, energy barriers were not possible, but the evidence was displayed _very clearly_ on the table in front of him. Something _was _blocking their weapons from reaching the ship's hull. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know how, but right now that's not the biggest problem." Six replied, trying to compose herself and focus on the current problem.

One understood, and he agreed. "You are completely right. We need to get our hands on whatever is protecting that ship."

"That is not the problem either! Look at what the Galactica is doing. She's entering close weapons range. If she launches nukes from such distance, we won't be able to intercept them before they hit!"

One looked at Six, understanding she was right. Never in a million years would someone employ such tactic, and not only because trying to get them this close would get them shredded before they could even arrive, but also because of the nuclear blasts hurting their own ship almost as much as hurting those targeted. But if they had a barrier protecting them… "Tell the fleet to disengage and to prepare for an emergency jump!"

"Already doing it," Six replied, quickly immersing her hands in the jelly substance in front of her that allowed a direct mental connection with the ship.

"Too late!" Three said, as she noticed a massive barrage of missiles speeding away from the Galactica.

The next instant, the ship shook violently once, quickly followed by another even more violent hit. Lights began to flicker with a nearby wall coming down. It must have been a direct hit on the central support strut.

"We've lost sensors! Hull breaches throughout the ship!" Six shouted in fear, but then she suddenly sensed something else, with hope suddenly crossing her face. "Jumping!"

In the meantime, One was getting back on his feet. He had ended face first on the floor, something his bloody nose was clearly showing. "Status!"

"I'm trying to restore sensors by rerouting damaged pathways through secondary systems." Six replied, concentrating. "Got it!" She yelped hopefully, just before her face suddenly changed into one of pure horror. She was receiving telemetry now. "Only two other baseships are here with us, and I'm detecting massive damage on both of them." She replied, not adding the fact that she could tell their own ship was in an even worse condition than the other two.

One slammed his fist on the table, making the tactical view flicker. It was out of character for him, but understandable. In less than ten minutes, what they thought would have been an easy victory, had quickly turned into a massive defeat. "We need to get our hands on that technology! I don't care how, even if we have to use every infiltrator in their fleet, but we must get our hands on it. This technology can be the end of us."

Six was nodding in full agreement. Having the ability to form a protective bubble around their ships was something they never thought possible, and they couldn't leave the Colonials have monopoly of such technology. Then, suddenly, Six's eyes once again flew wide open in horror. "Frak!"

One raised his head, looking at Six, puzzled. Apparently she had more bad news to deliver. "What now?"

"Our baseships."

"What about them?"

"They are probably the worst possible design if you want to have a protective bubble around them."

One thought about it. She was right. Forming a bubble around such spaceships, with their two-star configuration, would be wasteful at best. He didn't know what kind of power requirements would be needed, but he was sure the bigger the bubble was, the more energy you needed. And to envelop an entire baseship the bubble would have to be massive, mostly protecting nothing except empty space because of her spikes. He had to admit it, they'd possibly come up with the worst ship design _ever!_ "That is not important right now. We need to send news back home right now. And the only hope we have is if the Galactica is the only ship with this new capability."

"Why would the Galactica be the only ship?" Six asked.

"Didn't you see how they were keeping their other ships back? If all ships had this barrier, they would have stormed all together. And we know that no Colonial ship back home has it, because we would have seen it when we attacked the Colonies. And you can bet they would have installed such system first on their newer ships and not on an old ship like the Galactica. No, the only logical conclusion is that the Galactica found some piece of alien technology during their voyage." One explained his train of thought. He then looked straight at Six. "You must inform the others and ask for reinforcements."

"I will… _wait!_ Why are you telling _me_ this?" Six asked, puzzled.

Without saying one more word, One pulled a concealed gun out and shot Six straight in the head. Six dropped to the floor, dead.

Three looked at One, puzzled, but there was no apparent shock in her demeanor. "Since when you carry a weapon?"

"Since always," One replied with a slight smirk. He really liked this new method of FTL communication, and he also felt great for having shot a Six. He didn't like that particular model very much. "Let's get the ships repaired."

Without any more words, the Cylons went to work. It will take time to repair the damage. Time they apparently didn't have.

* * *

In the meantime, the entire crew on the Galactica's CIC was congratulating each other for the unexpected victory. The insane tactic employed by their CO had paid off. And it was a good thing he didn't explain to anyone what he was planning to do because there was a fair chance someone would have relieved him for reasons of insanity. And yet, instead of making a forced visit to Doctor Cottle, the bridge's crew was congratulating him for having saved the fleet, again.

Saul was patting the old man on his shoulder. "You old fool! When did you decide to make a suicide run with the old gal?"

Adama was smiling. He hadn't been certain if it was going to work. The shield had never been tested in battle conditions, and as far as he knew, it could have failed immediately after the first hit, which would have been _very _bad. On the other hand, he didn't have much of a choice either. With the fleet stuck for the next best thing to half an hour, there was no way they could have evaded a direct confrontation. And confronting five baseships with two old battlestars and two destroyers was a fool's errand if your intention was to survive the engagement. The only chance was for the shield to provide a massive tactical advantage to even the odds. But even if it did, a prolonged shooting wasn't an option. If he entered a slugging match with the Cylons from afar, the engagement would have lasted for far too long. In that case, either the shield would have collapsed before they could inflict enough damage, or the Cylons would have figured out the Galactica was the only ship protected by a shield and started targeting the other ones. This way, the Cylons would have destroyed the other three and even with a shield the Galactica alone couldn't accomplish much. No, the only chance was for the Galactica to get so close that the Cylons couldn't intercept their nukes. "It wasn't a suicide run Saul."

"Hell it wasn't. You had no more idea the shield would hold than I did. And if it failed, the Cylons wouldn't even have needed to shoot at us. Our closest few nukes would have done the job for them."

"That was a calculated risk, Saul," Adama said, lying through his teeth.

"Sure, Bill. Like I believe it."

"It doesn't matter now. It worked, didn't it?" Adama replied, immediately changing the topic. He turned to face the bridge. "Ok, listen up! I want an extensive status report five minutes ago."

The crew stopped their celebration and quickly went back to work.

"Lt. Gaeta, can you give me a summarized version of what exactly happened?"

"Um… yes, sir," Gaeta replied, turning to his console and typing something on it. "We have sustained some damage. Most of it at the end, sir. The radiation from the last two nukes that struck the closest Cylon baseship depleted the shield and we have some damage on the hull. Some turrets are offline, one of our communications dishes is fried and we have some armor plating to repair. It appears the shield also presented some holes once its strength fell below sixty percent, and we received some damage through them. It appears the shield is not completely functional."

"Still, it is better than being without one. But what I want to know now, is what was the status of the shield_ before_ the nukes hit the nearest baseship. I want to get a sense of how much was the shield able to take of the incoming enemy fire."

"One moment, sir," Gaeta replied, working his console. "We were at 32% before the nukes detonated."

Adama tried to calculate what that meant. Nukes aside, the shields had protected the Galactica from most of the direct weapons fire, both railguns and missiles that hadn't been intercepted by their defensive fire, and that's what was most interesting to Adama. He wanted to get a sense of the shield's strength against such onslaught. Plus, by knowing how much the nuclear blast had depleted the shield, he got the impression that, at full power, it could protect the ship from at least three or maybe even four _direct_ nuclear hits before failing. Of course granted the missiles don't hit through the holes Gaeta had mentioned. And maybe Baltar could do something about those too.

Adama was shaking his head. The sad truth was that the fleet was in debt with Gaius Baltar now. If he hadn't made the shield generator, they would now be all dead. And he didn't like it one bit.

"Bill," Saul said, making Adama turn. "Get a look at these numbers."

"What is it?" Adama asked while approaching Saul.

"This is the report I've got from the engine room. We used up almost 30% of our onboard Tylium reserves in this short engagement alone."

"What?" Adama yelped. It was ridiculous. The jump drive would need at least ten jumps at max range to spend so much Tylium.

"It's true, I checked twice. And that's not all. Engineer reports the entire reactor room is so hot that you can fry eggs on the floor. They can't even get close to the reactor right now. We were lucky it didn't shutdown or worse break down."

"You're right. How are we on Tylium reserves?"

"Not bad, but not good either. Those fifty plus jumps we had to calculate quickly when the Cylons were tracking us, has spent a lot of it, and we made very little progress. The jumps had to be short so that the calculation could be done quicker, which means a lot of jumps for very little light years crossed."

Adama didn't like what he was hearing. "So, we now have a Tylium problem too?"

"Not yet, but eventually. And especially if we have to use this shield often."

"Great! And thinking I was just about to propose a change of course."

"Change? Change to where?"

"Do you remember what Baltar told us about the comm. system on board the alien craft we found?"

"What about it?"

"Do you remember when Baltar told us about the sent signal's intended destination?"

Saul thought about it, trying to remember. "But he said the signal's destination was 12.000 light years away!? And why would we want to even go there? From what we know, Kobol isn't exactly in that direction."

"I know it isn't, but did you think about who's the intended recipient of the signal?"

"Actually, I didn't."

"Well, I did," Adama said, putting a mischievous grin.

"You think Earth is the intended target."

"Who else?" Adama asked.

"Okay. It does sound plausible, but Bill! That's more than a thousand jumps for frak's sake. Our jump drives will burn half way there."

"Well, that is a problem, I admit, but not an insurmountable one."

"Please explain to me how that isn't a deal breaker."

"Because I talked to Baltar the other day, and he came up with another one of his brilliant ideas."

"He did, didn't he?" Saul said, already not liking where this conversation might be going. That guy will sooner or later blow the ship into very tiny pieces. And Adama listening to that man was an even worse prospect.

"Well, he thinks he can make the alien craft's computer calculate jump coordinates much faster. Even a hundred times faster. Our current system takes ten hours to calculate a ten light years long jump, and that's why we don't make longer jumps, because the calculation time raises almost exponentially. The alien craft's computer could calculate a fifty light years long jump in the same timeframe. And the best part is that the alien system _cannot_ be integrated with our systems because they are not compatible. So, the entire system would be completely separated, and we wouldn't have to worry about networked systems.

Saul looked at Adama, puzzled. "That's what Baltar says, but I can tell you right now, that guy also thinks he can walk on water."

"Well, I didn't think having a shield was possible, and yet he made one. Even the Chief said the craft's computer system has a processing power beyond anything we could even imagine."

Saul was about to reply, but a certain CID agent somehow managed to appear next to the two of them, without them noticing his approach. The guy even _felt_ spooky.

Sylus coughed loudly, trying to get the attention of the Admiral. As the Admiral turned to face him he began speaking. "Admiral, I couldn't prevent myself from hearing your conversation."

"I'm sure you couldn't," Adama replied flatly.

"Yes, well, as far as changing course is concerned, I have to object to that."

"And why would that be, Mr. Sylus?" Adama asked, really wanting to hear it.

"Let's just say that we shouldn't change course until we get news from back home."

"What news?"

"I sent specific instructions with the last raptor that went back in the Cyrannus System, and I'm awaiting some rather important data to be delivered to me. And if we change course so drastically, there won't be any chance of them finding us."

"What documents?"

"That is not important, Admiral. Suffice it to say, they are very important."

"I'm sorry, but if these documents are so important, then I think I should know about their content. Would you agree?"

"I wouldn't."

"Well, then I don't agree with your estimate of how important they are, which means you have no saying in the fleet's intended course. And you should have informed me the raptor was returning as well."

Sylus was fuming inside. He had never seen such an arrogant man in his entire life. No one talked to him this way. And yet, if Adama decided to change course, he wouldn't be able to prevent it from happening. "All right, but this stays between the three of us. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Adama replied. He was now even more curious to find out about it.

"I believe we've been infiltrated by the Terrans."

"What?" Saul yelped. What was this man talking about?

"Care to explain in more details? Something must have happened to spur such suspicions," Adama asked, frustrated.

"Something did. The explosion that blew up half the rear of the alien craft for one."

"And you came up with this infiltration theory just because the craft exploded? From what the Chief told me, the cause was the difference in our and the craft's power distribution systems."

"That is only a theory on Chief Tyler's part, and I personally don't believe such an advanced craft doesn't have some kind of regulation system, or at the very least some safety measures that would prevent an incompatible power source from damaging the craft's systems. And there's also another fact that you need to consider."

"Which is?" Adama asked, progressively losing more and more of his very limited patience. It was like pulling each word one at a time out of the man.

"From what the vice president told us, the Terrans were able to access some top secret documents only few people in the Colonies have access to, which would indicate some infiltration has already occurred back in the Colonies. If we add the fact that they used a virus to stop the Cylon attack and that after the attack there was so much mayhem, it isn't too farfetched to think they could have changed a few of our people's identities, maybe of somebody who died during the attack, and placed their people as impostors, both in the fleet and back home."

In Adama's humble opinion, this agent was a very paranoid man, which wasn't even that strange if he thought about it for a while longer. It was practically a job requirement for anyone who wanted to become a CID employee. And yet, the man's paranoid tendencies didn't preclude the possibility that he was right, and his train of thought did sound at least possible. But at this moment, Adama was fuming inside for the reason that this man should have told him his suspicions immediately, instead of keeping it a secret. "And I wasn't informed of this why?"

Sylus sighed, "And what would you have done if I told you?"

"I would have started an investigation, that's what."

"And that is exactly the reason why I didn't tell anyone. I knew you would have wanted to investigate, and _that_ could have possibly tipped off their agent… if such exists of course. Instead, I opted to keep my suspicions to myself _until_ I get the data I need with background checks on every member of this fleet. I have instructed the president to compile a list of all who have joined the fleet, both military and civilian, and for them to check their friends, relatives and acquaintances if there's some discrepancy between their digital identities and what the people who knew them know how they really look like. Only then would I have come to you so an investigation could begin. I have no doubt that by comparing detailed background checks for the short list of possible suspects who had access to the craft, we would be able to quickly find who did it, or at least be certain that it was only an accident. "

Adama remained pensive, thinking of the repercussions and the actual probability that what Sylus was telling him was the truth. "How long do you believe it will take for them to send back a raptor with the documents?"

Sylus didn't know how to answer, not if he didn't want to lie. Besides the time it would take to collect such data, the raptor wouldn't take long to reach them, but if the president followed his recommendation, a raptor wouldn't be the method used to deliver the needed evidence. A battlestar would, which would take considerably more time to travel, and with another mission to perform as well. And at this point, he really didn't want to give Adama any clue that there probably wasn't a raptor en route, but a battlestar to take the shield generator back to the Colonies. "I can't be certain. It all depends on how much time it will take people back home to collect the evidence."

"Mr. Sylus, I cannot work with such an answer. I need to know what the timetable is," Adama replied, looking at a suddenly taciturn Sylus. "I tell you what. I'm willing to wait and stay on course for the Beta rendezvous point until Baltar comes with a faster means of calculating jump coordinates. After that, and if I still believe we need to change our course, the best I can do is leave a few raptors as pickets while we make a few more jumps. More than that, and the raptors wouldn't have a chance to catch up with us."

"I understand," Sylus replied readily. Too readily. Now he only needed to somehow distract Baltar from working on this new contraption of his.

* * *

Six steered in her bed, or rather tried to because she wasn't very successful. There was also something else that felt strange and different. Through her hands she could feel the cold of metal, and she hadn't been sleeping on a metallic bed, of that she was for certain. She should be feeling the silk sheets and the softness of her mattress beneath her, but that apparently wasn't the case.

She tried to steer a little more, but it was like pushing through a very dense liquid denying her movement. And yet she didn't feel wet. She began opening her eyes, but even that wasn't easy. She felt groggy and confused, and the little she did manage to open them gave her a blurry vision. The strangest thing of all was that she could discern some strange lights of different colors dancing above her and some strange - and looking very _intrusive_ - probing instruments of some kind. This was beginning to feel really wrong.

With effort, she managed to slowly inch her head to her left, just enough to see some blurry figure standing next to her. The figure looked very strange too. It was very skinny, naked, and its head looked almost two sizes too big compared to the rest of its tiny and fragile body. Now - probably because of the increased level of adrenaline coursing through her body - she managed to open her eyes a little more with the blurriness beginning to vanish.

And at this point, she would have really preferred if her vision hadn't cleared at all.

While somehow restrained on a metallic bed, she managed to get a clear look of an _alien_, with _very _big and rounded black eyes. Her heart began pounding in her chest, her breathing quick and shallow.

_Don't freak, don't freak!_

And the alien must have noticed it too because it immediately started talking, by the looks of it, to somebody on the other side of the table in some very fast and very alien language she couldn't comprehend. With all her strength, she forced her head to turn, just in time to see _another _of the gray aliens approaching with something in its hand, something the alien quickly pushed against her neck and…

* * *

…_several hours later_

Six jumped out of her bed as if she'd just been bitten by something, quickly looking around in utter fear. She was in her bedroom, in her large apartment in the capital of Picon, and there was no one there with her. She was alone in her bedroom, with her bed covered in her silk sheets, just as she remembered it being the case when she went to sleep. She began looking for any needle marks or other signs on her body, but found none of. There was no evidence at all of any poking having been done to her whatsoever. She finally began relaxing, slowly crawling back into her bed. She must have dreamt it.

_I really need to stop watching those Colonial's horror movies!_

* * *

Meanwhile, high above in Picon's orbit, a cloaked _Daniel Jackson_ slowly began moving away. Inside, one diminutive gray alien and a Terran were having a discussion.

"Thanks, Heimdall. We could probably have done it ourselves, but we're not even close to be as good geneticists as you are. And your science vessel is much better equipped for such tasks," Brian Fitzpatrick said.

"It is not a problem. On the contrary. Ever since you told us of these human form Cylons, I was very curious to find more about them. And I must admit, what the scans have shown is remarkable," Heimdall responded while working on the console in front of her. As a result, the large display changed, showing the full anatomy of the Cylon woman."

"What do you mean with remarkable?" Brian asked.

"The scans I performed on the Cylon woman have shown that this is something we have never witnessed before. It appears she is almost completely biological in nature, making it very difficult for a blood test to show any difference from a normal human being, and especially a Colonial. As you already know, there are some differences between the Colonials' DNA and of other humans that we cannot account for by simply attributing it to environmental differences alone. That difference between a Cylon and a Colonial is only minute."

"So that's why a simple DNA test can't tell us if a person is a Cylon or a Colonial."

"Exactly, but that doesn't mean there is no difference at all." As Heimdall began explaining, she moved another rune on the console, resulting in the display focusing on her brain. "Here the difference is most visible. Although the Cylon has a biological neural network just like any other Colonial, she also has seven percent of her neurons made with nanites as their primary building blocks. And the most interesting part is that her body is able to build these nanites from the readily available elements in her bloodstream. To be more precise, it combines the Iron, Copper and Carbon she has in her body to form nanites, which is something we have never seen before. We knew that nanites can be created through a variety of elements, but never with those three, and the way her body is able to form these nanites, as opposed to nanite replication, is also remarkable. There are more of these nanites in her muscles and other tissue, forming various types of more complex cells," Heimdall explained, fascinated by the discovery.

"So, the Colonials have no way of finding out who's a Cylon and who isn't?"

"Not exactly. A blood test can show an elevated amount of iron and copper present in Cylons' blood, but the test must be well calibrated because there is a chance of giving a false positive. A Human can have an elevated amount of the same elements for several reasons. It isn't very healthy for a Human to have them in such quantities, but not impossible. Also, the cells the nanites create are remarkably similar to their biological counterpart, thus even through scans it is not easy to detect them. Only very advanced scanning equipment can achieve the necessary resolution to, without a doubt, identify the nanite based cells. Definitely not something handheld scanners can achieve. And a DNA test must be incredibly extensive to show any difference."

"That's too bad. I really thought we could come up with a scanning device small enough for our operatives to inconspicuously check people in their Expeditionary Fleet for any Cylon infiltration. We were lucky we were able to compare the Fleet's manifest with the records of people on Picon and find… _twins!_"

"Unfortunately, I do not think it will be possible," Heimdall replied, noticing a beeping signal coming from her console. "We have reached the rendezvous point with the Prometheus and the ship is already here. I will transfer the data we have collected today, and if there is nothing else, I can also beam you back to your ship."

"Yes, you can beam me now. And thanks again for the help, Heimdall."

"It was my pleasure, agent Fitzpatrick," Heimdall said, immediately transferring Brian back to his ship.

Finishing the data transfer, Heimdall instructed the _Daniel Jackson_ to enter hyperspace once again.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They're always appreciated.**_


	8. Opportunities

**Author's note: **Well, here is the next chapter of this story and it is time to introduce another important character, one that will stay with us for quite some time. I'm working on the next chapter, but I'm not sure it will be done by next week. I'll try but...

**Guest:** It is quite possible I said that because I was remembering the fact about the Ethiopians, spears, and a tank, on some subconscious level, but forgot about the details. If not, I'm not sure I would have used people with spears and a tank to make a point. Go figure. You forget the details, and you end up using the wrong thing to make a point.

**Guest No. 2: **For now, I'm keeping this and the other stories completely separate. It is easier to follow. So, not sure if there'll be any mixing with the enemies from the other story here. I'm also trying not to make it to complex. With too many sides.

**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll enjoy this chapter too.**

* * *

"Jump completed ma'am!"

"Very well," Admiral Cain replied, complacent of how her crew was performing. "Begin system wide scan."

Cain waited while the sensor officer worked diligently and swiftly on his console, thinking about their voyage that had taken them hundreds of light years behind the Red Line. The voyage thus far had been completely uneventful, but she knew that would soon change. Both because they should be meeting with the Expeditionary Fleet and because she knew the Cylons were chasing it, which meant the chances of encounter were climbing quickly.

She also didn't really like the mission's parameters. She knew Adama well enough, and having the task of taking something from him, she knew he would be very reluctant to part ways with, could pose some problems. With the war against the Cylons raging back home, the last thing she wanted was for her to have to shoot at their own ships. But the president's orders were clear. She needed to get the shield generator back and that wasn't debatable. Plus, the fact that she didn't have the necessary force to make Adama do anything she wanted meant he could very well deny her request.

Admiral Nagala had explained how, in his infinite wisdom, the president needed warships back home because he needed to retake Caprica, and even though Nagala didn't give any specifics, she was smart enough to know why the president wanted to retake the planet. The timing when the liberation of Caprica needed to occur was a strong enough clue to know that politics were involved. She knew the president didn't care about a planet devastated by nuclear bombardment, and much less cared for the people still trapped there. He cared for the votes the sudden liberation of Caprica would inevitably bring him.

And that didn't sit well with her.

Not that she had a high opinion of the man even _before_ this latest insight into his goals and motivations. She thought the man was a moron, who not only was a poor leader, but in her opinion was also the man responsible for the latest Cylon attack. If he hadn't downsized the military budget, planets like Caprica would have been protected with adequate orbital defenses, not to mention with more warships readily available to defend them, which could have prevented the Cylons from even getting the idea of restarting the war. Or at the very least, the losses would have been less numerous and maybe Caprica and Geminon wouldn't have fallen into enemy hands at all.

She was pissed. The man's incompetence was legendary and she wished him out of Office at the end of this fast nearing elections. She also had the suspicion that Nagala thought the same way. Maybe they could do something about that. Of course, that was, if she could get home before the elections end.

"Admiral, there are no ships in the system except ours."

Cain turned toward the officer who'd just spoken. "So, the Expeditionary Fleet is not here. It probably means they have chosen Rendezvous Point Beta. Is there anything else of any interest in this system?" She remembered the report mentioning this place having been chosen as Rendezvous Point Alpha for some reason, but she couldn't remember what it was.

"There is one habitable planet in the system, ma'am."

Habitable planets were very rare in this part of the galaxy. In a hundred light years radius, creating a volume of slightly less than five million cubic light years, there were more than 15.000 stars, and yet, it had been calculated that only one in every 2.000 stars have a habitable planet inside its system. Even though their mission was to meet with the Fleet, a finding such as this required further and immediate investigation. It was a closely kept secret the fact that there was not much more Tylium in the Cyranus System, after the thousands of years of unregulated consumption, and if another system with Tylium could be found - especially one with a habitable planet in it for people to live on while mining the nearby asteroid field - the shortage of their primary source of fuel would finally be solved.

"Take us into orbit of the habitable planet. Let's see what we have here," Cain ordered.

The Pegasus, her two Valkyrie escorts and three more defender class gunships, meant as reinforcement for Adama, slowly pushed toward the fourth planet in the system.

Entering orbit hours later, the Lt. manning the sensor post began scanning the surface of the planet. A planet has a large surface and it took a little over an hour to scan 70 percent of it, the exact moment when the officer noticed something peculiar on the surface.

"Um… Admiral, I think you need to see this," the Lt. said, clearly puzzled at what he was seeing.

"What is it?" Cain replied, moving near the Lt. and the big screen only meters in front of him. But even before the Lt. could say anything, she saw it on the screen for herself. "What? How is this possible?"

"I don't know, ma'am."

Cain frowned. The screen was showing a real time image of the surface directly below them and magnified. She was clearly watching people moving around in the middle of a pretty large town. From the size of it, the town could comfortably house at least fifty thousand people and, as the Lt. zoomed out the view, there were nearby farms with large fields of grain around them. It also appeared that these people were at a level where they didn't even know about electricity. "Ok, this needs to be checked more thoroughly. Tell the CAG to send a raptor down there."

"Yes, Admiral."

* * *

Kalen strolled through the central plaza, smiling and watching the people around him moving in all directions. It had become a ritual of his to every day spend at least an hour mingling with his people. It was very important that a leader showed his face in public and to, on occasion, listen to their wishes and troubles. He was more than certain that this was one of the reasons why he'd managed to stay in charge for more than two decades and why his people liked him so much. His predecessor had made the mistake of believing he was the king and ruler of these people, ruling with an iron fist. It had been the reason why he'd lost his head when enough people had enough of the way he'd ruled over them. It was a mistake he was adamant not to make.

Life was good on Melor. The weather was perfect for most of the year, and the crops were plentiful. There was no reason to try to force people in doing anything, and he was more of the opinion that, if his people were happy, he was happy as well. He had a wife and three kids, with the fourth on his way, and they were all well fed.

What could he possibly ask more from life?

As he neared the center of the plaza, he began hearing a strange noise, one he had never heard before. It was coming from the north and definitely from above, which was making it even more puzzling.

_What could possibly make such high pitch sound?_

He stopped, watching intently in the direction from where the sound was coming, the same as many other people nearby. As the sound was becoming louder and louder, he understood that, whatever it was, it was coming their way. He began squinting, trying to discern what the dot he was now starting to see could possibly be. Suddenly, fear began overwhelming him. No, this wasn't possible! This could not be happening. He knew about stories from centuries ago, about contraptions capable of flying, but that would mean…

"The Gods have returned!" a man near him shouted in terror.

Kalen turned toward the shouting man. He needed to say something before people stared panicking "Please, Marin, do not incite fear in people."

Marin turned to face Kalen. "Don't you understand? Only the Gods know how to fly. So this must be them having returned! And our ancestors have buried the Chapa'ai and we let it stay that way. The Gods must have returned to punish us because of our ancestors' transgression!"

Kalen heard the fearful yelps of the people around him, several of them hugging their loved ones in utter fear. He didn't know what this quickly approaching object was, but if they started panicking, it wouldn't matter much either.

"People!" Kalen yelled, sharply. Seeing that the people in the plaza had turned to face him, and stopped murmuring, he continued. "Do not panic people! We do not know what this is. Let us not be afraid of the shadow before we see what is making it." It was something his father had always told him when, as a child, he'd been afraid of the shadows he would see coming from outside of his house, while a storm raged during the night.

The people did somewhat calmed down, but not as much as he had hoped. He turned to see what was coming their way, now only hundreds of meters away, and apparently slowing down during what looked as its final approach. He waited until the flying contraption began hovering right above them, with the people in the plaza quickly moving away in all directions. As there wasn't anyone beneath the flying object, it began lowering, until it touched the ground. Quickly, the high pitch sound began subsiding, until it completely disappeared. He was prepared to step closer, he was after all their leader and he needed to show them that there was nothing to be afraid of, but when the side of the craft began opening, he decided to be more prudent and remain where he was.

As the hatch opened, he noticed three people standing behind it, all wearing some strange clothing he'd never seen before.

_Were his people right? Did the Gods return?_

Two men slowly began exiting, while holding something in both of their hands. It wasn't a stick, nor was it the weapons the Gods' servants used to instill fear with in their ancestors - at least not if the stories on how the weapons had looked like were true. It had been so long ago and much had been lost, so he couldn't be certain.

Kalen gathered all the courage he could muster, intent at talking to these people, whoever they were. But even before he moved, he noticed Marin kowtowing in front of them. And that was enough for him to know that more would inevitably follow his example. _Idiot!_

As predicted, one after the other, they all followed Marin's example. If he knew anything about negotiations, it was that you never entered into one holding the short end of a stick; exactly what had happened right at this moment.

Once the first two men had jumped on the ground and moved to both sides of the hatch, the third man got out as well, moving just a few feet in front of the other two. Apparently, this was their leader while the other two were his guards, which meant that what the guards were holding in their hands was definitely some kind of weapon. What kind, he really couldn't tell.

Kolen stepped forward. At the moment, he was the only one who wasn't kowtowing on the ground in front of these people. "Hello, my name is Kolen, and I'm the leader in this town."

The man in front of him put a puzzling frown on his face, as if not understanding what he'd said, "My name is Cole Tylor. I'm sorry for having startled you with our arrival."

Kolen heard the words, and he understood most of them, but not all. And there was something about their accent, which made even the words he understood sound very different. The important thing though was that he understood enough. It meant that he could communicate with these people. And the even more important thing was that he didn't think these people, whoever they were, were the ruthless gods his ancestors have lived under. This man had used the word 'sorry' in his sentence, and he knew the Gods would have never used such word while addressing their slaves.

Suddenly, from behind, Kolen heard the voice of Marin. "Please have mercy. Our ancestors did not know what they were doing. Spare our lives and we will unearth the Chapa'ai immediately."

Kolen rolled his eyes in frustration. Marin really didn't know when to be quiet. Taking a deep breath to calm down, he turned to look at Marin who was still kneeling on the ground. "Marin," he said, waiting for Marin to look at him. "Please shut up." Seeing that Marin had understood how serious he was and that he _probably_ wouldn't say anything else, he turned back to the three strangers. "Would it be acceptable if we were to continue this discussion in my office? As you can see, my people have been frightened by your sudden arrival and the longer we stay here, it will only get worse.

Cole understood enough, "Of course. Lead the way."

Before leaving, Kolen turned to his people giving them a few reassuring words. "See, there is nothing to fear. The Gods haven't returned." He then motioned to the three men to follow him in his office.

* * *

… _two hours later_

Cole was sitting in a chair in front of Kolen's table, with Kalen sitting on the other side, thinking very hard. He didn't know what was going on here. If he'd been able to understand this man correctly, several centuries ago there was a ruler on this world who pretended to be a God. And he'd ruthlessly ruled over these people with the help of other… _lesser Gods_ and an army of, what this man had called, Jaffa warriors. These people's ancestors had been nothing more than slaves, forced to mine some ore the God badly wanted. And apparently, this had lasted for millennia until the ore had been completely depleted. When that happened, the God, his helpers and his army of Jaffa had left the planet, to never return. The people of the time had then buried something they called Chapa'ai, or the Ring of the Gods, so that the Gods could not use it to return. And the worst part of the story was that, on several occasions, this God had come to this planet in a _frakking flying pyramid!_

He didn't know what these people were smoking, but he had to get some for himself.

Before this man had told him this tale, he was sure these people were the descendants of the colonists who had left Kobol. There were many stories of colony ships that had left humanities birth planet during the Great Exodus, but that had never reached the Cyranus system. But as far as he could tell, these people knew nothing about Kobol or its tribes. Still, it was possible that they'd forgotten everything about Kobol, not remembering their roots. Maybe they had lost everything if their ship had crash-landed and they were unable to salvage anything, but what was all this talk about this Goa'uld Gods, Jaffa… _and flying pyramids?_

_I still can't imagine a flying pyramid. And what the hell is a Chapa'ai!?_

Well, that _was_ one thing he _could_ be able to find out. "Can you show me this Chapa'ai?"

Kolen was thoughtful, "We were told by our ancestors to never unearth it so that the Gods could not use it to return."

"How would the Gods use it to return?" It was a good question, since he didn't have a clue what the thing was.

"I do not know. Our ancestors never talked about the Chapa'ai. They only told us that it is evil, and that it must never be unearthed."

Cole frowned. These people were apparently afraid of it, whatever it was, and he needed to find a way to make this man show him where it was. "What if I told you that we can take this Chapa'ai with us, and that you will never have to worry about it, ever again? We could take it to _our_ world."

Kolen's eyes widened, "You can take it to another world? But why would you put your people in such a danger. Why would you bring something so evil to your world?"

Well, maybe it was best if he lied, "Because we do not fear it. We have knowledge… um… on how to destroy it, forever."

Kolen actually liked hearing this. "You can destroy it? I did not know such a feat could even be possible."

Cole was feeling weird about lying in order to get something he didn't know what it was, but what he did know was that he really wanted to find out what that thing was. "Of course! We have dealt with evil machines before." That one wasn't a lie. They had been turning Cylons into scrap for a very long time, and there was no greater evil than the Cylons.

Kolen was still thinking about it, still uncertain if unearthing the Chapa'ai was the right thing to do, but the thought of ridding his world of it was very alluring to him. "I will show you the Chapa'ai."

Cole smiled. _Oh yeah! Let's get ourselves a Chapa'ai! Chapa'ai… Chapa'ai… I must admit, the name is very catchy. I just wish I knew what the hell a Chapa'ai is. With my luck, it will be a very big bomb._

* * *

…_three hours later._

No native was coming even near the excavation site where the Chapa'ai was buried. There were a few hundreds of them, all watching, but they were all standing at a safe distance at least a hundred feet away, while his people had to unearth the thing all alone. Because of it, he had called for reinforcements, and now there were four raptors near the dig site and a dozen Colonials had been shoveling the dirt on top of the Ring away for the best part of the past two hours. Cole also had to admit, the thing was big! And it appeared to be very heavy. They had tried to lift it with one raptor by attaching some cables to it, but the raptor had stalled in midair while at full throttle and the thing hadn't moved by even an inch. But Cole wasn't ready to give up, not yet. If one raptor couldn't lift it, he was certain three could.

All three raptors had long cables attached to their underside, with the other ends wrapped around three points on the massive ring. In unison, the raptors lifted off the ground a hundred feet in the air until the cables fully extended. Cole watched as the raptors slowly increased their throttle, with the sound getting louder and louder. He was already thinking that even three of them wouldn't be enough to lift the damn thing, when he noticed the massive ring slowly beginning to first shake and then partially lift. Soon, the ring was fully into the air, and the three raptors began gaining altitude faster and faster. He was glad to see it. This was the most difficult part. Now that they were in the air, they could fire their rear engines, which would give them much more thrust. And once in space, even this monstrosity would become weightless. He only hoped the cables would hold until they exited orbit, because if that thing fell…

Meanwhile, the pilot of the fourth and last raptor moved in the nearby bushes. He really needed to relieve himself. As he went behind the first available bush out of sight, he heard a strange rustling sound coming from behind. He turned, not knowing why someone would follow him when he went peeing, but people were strange at times, and he really didn't know these people, so... anything was possible. What he saw was one of the natives. The man didn't look very threatening and he didn't have anything with him that could even remotely be construed as a weapon. Thinking the man wanted to just ask him something, he relaxed. The next instant, he saw the man's eyes glow for an instant, just before a _snake _leapt from behind his head straight at him. As the snake hit him in the neck, it quickly dashed around it. It was then that he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull.

He couldn't move. He tried, with all the will power he could muster, but his body would simply not move, no matter how much he tried. And that wasn't even the worst part. He could feel a presence there with him, but not near him. The presence was in his mind, a presence that had taken complete control of his body.

Suddenly, he felt his foot rise from the ground, and then sharply slam into the head of the man that had crumbled on the ground immediately after the _snake_ had jumped him. He could feel the crunching sound of the man's skull beneath his feet as it was crushed, and he knew the man had instantly died from the powerful blow. He had killed a man he didn't even know, and he wasn't even the one controlling his body. He suddenly felt such overwhelming fear, with an intensity he had never felt before, but he also sensed the new presence in his mind, the one controlling him, laughing in utter joy. He didn't know if the presence was laughing because it had killed the man or because of the fear _he_ was feeling. He had the suspicion it was because of both of these reasons.

His body suddenly began moving toward the Raptor, without him being at the helm. He needed to somehow warn his people of what was happening to him, but he couldn't even open his mouth, much less speak. And as his fear and frustration spiked again, the presence in his mind rejoiced once more with renewed vigor.

The man had finally found out that, after all, true evil did exist in the universe.

Too bad he would carry this newfound knowledge to his grave, unable to tell it to a living soul.

* * *

Ba'al strode purposefully toward the alien craft he was the pilot of, still not believing at his fortune. After the rise of the Terrans, he had been tasked with a very specific mission. He, as the last Ba'al clone, needed to travel into the past in order to change the future, but when he tried to reach the space station that monitored solar flares, he learned there was no space station to speak of, only debris. The Terrans had found it and destroyed it, which meant he was screwed, with no way of opposing such powerful enemy. Worst even, the Terrans had increased their planetary security to such a degree that he couldn't even infiltrate the planet in order to try and destroy them from the inside. All this, had left him with only one possible course of action.

Flee.

He knew about this secluded world. He had been their God for millennia, up until the moment when the deposits of Naquadah had run out more than two centuries ago. He also knew the gate had been buried on this world, which meant even the Terrans didn't know about it. And the chance they would stumble upon it by chance was ridiculously small. It meant that this planet was the perfect hiding place.

Still, he couldn't risk someone stumbling on it by chance, while he retook the role of their God. He would quickly be discovered, with dire consequences. No, he could not have risked it. He needed to keep a low profile so that, even if somebody came, he wouldn't be suspected of being a Goa'uld.

This was the reason why he had spent years as nothing more than a simple peasant, seemingly blending among these people as if he was one of them. And it had worked. No one had ever suspected who he really was. Not that it had been easy though. On many occasions, during these years of living clandestinely, it had been very trying, many times wanting nothing more than to show these people who he really was, their true God. But somehow he'd managed to keep his temper at bay. A feat he didn't know if any other Goa'uld would have been able to accomplish.

And then, suddenly, providence brought these strange _Colonials_, a race of humans apparently no one even knew existed in the galaxy at large. And they were also very advanced. Maybe not by Goa'uld standards, but they were definitely a spacefaring race, numbering in billions and having twelve worlds under their control. He was barely capable of believing how such fortune could have fallen into his lap the way it did. But since it did, it didn't take him long to decide it was time to leave this hellhole of a planet and go to find some greener pastures.

Somewhere where he could maybe even restart his empire.

As he approached the raptor he was supposed to be the pilot of, he spotted the CAG looking at him, not pleased.

"Vincent! You worthless piece of shit! Where have you been and how the hell could you leave the Raptor unattended?" Cole barked in anger.

Ba'al's first thought was to snap the neck of the impudent worm that had dared address him in such a manner, but he knew it would be the wrong move. A momentary pleasure could cost him everything. "Sorry, sir. I needed to go pee."

"You're definitely the black sheep in the fleet, you know that? If you don't do something stupid, you don't do anything except the bare minimum to not get kicked out. If there wasn't a war right now, I would have personally kicked you out of the fleet myself months ago!"

"Sorry sir, it won't happen again."

"And now you're even lying to me! This is getting better and better. I don't know what it is going to be, Vincent, but the next ten worst jobs I can give to a raptor pilot are yours. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, sir!" Ba'al replied, again getting the clear image of him torturing this man, maybe even in a worse way than how he'd tortured O'Neill.

"Good! Now, start moving that worthless ass of yours and put it into the pilot's seat so we can finally get on our way. We are done with this planet."

Without saying anything, Ba'al went inside the raptor and into the pilot's seat. He quickly powered the craft, only glancing to see if everybody was inside, before closing the hatch and taking off. Unknown to the CAG, he was even more eager to leave this rock than the CAG was. While speeding towards the Pegasus, he thought about what he needed to do next. Yes, he'd managed to get away, but he was going to a spaceship that wasn't about to return to their home worlds any time soon, and he needed to somehow get there. He wasn't planning to stay on a single ship as a raptor pilot for possibly months while, from the man's own memories, he knew pilots were the first to die when fighting the Cylons. No, he needed to somehow leave the fleet and go back to the Colonies.

Suddenly, he understood something. From Vincent's memories he knew that it was standard procedure to send a raptor back to the Colonies whenever some great discovery had been found, and finding a habitable planet with people on it, when the Colonials thought they were alone in the universe, was a very important discovery by anyone's standard.

"Sir, I apologize again for my behavior, and to make it right, I'm volunteering to be the one going back to the Colonies to deliver the message of this recent discovery."

Cole's eyes flew wide. Vincent volunteering to do anything was unheard of. Vincent was the type of guy that would keep quiet and crunched behind a row of other pilots in order to become as invisible as possible whenever duties were passed on. And even when he got an order, he would try to wiggle out of it. This was definitely not in his character. But then Cole thought about something else. Of course, he had promised to him that the next ten worst jobs would be his, which meant he would get the boring job of jumping endless times back to Colonial space, only to deliver a message and then do the same jumping all over again to get back to the fleet anyway. So, the only thing he was doing was to spin this in his favor, as if it had been his idea to volunteer. "Sure Vincent. The job is all yours… as well as many other ungrateful jobs once you get back."

"Of course, sir," Ba'al replied, smiling. He didn't tell the CAG that he didn't have any intention of returning back once he got into Colonial space.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They are always appreciated. **_


	9. Assumptions

He didn't think Cain's arrival would have caused so much trouble for him. If he knew, he would have ordered the fleet to jump and leave Cain wondering where they went.

When Cain's task force, or what was left of it, first appeared, Adama had promptly ordered relief efforts to help with the injured, as well as the chief's crew and the other one from the Columbia to lay a hand with the repairs of the Pegasus and the one Valkyrie of Cain's task force that had survived. The two ships were showing clear signs of having survived a nasty beating, which wasn't strange at all since they'd stumbled upon five baseships and an armada of accompanying raiders.

At first, he wasn't planing to criticize Cain's decision to fight the Cylons, but once he'd learned why she was really here, he couldn't help but to do just that. Apparently, Cain was here to bring three more gunships – that were now floating lifelessly and in pieces somewhere in the void of space – to help the Expeditionary Fleet and, as the main reason, to take the shield generator away from them. And both reasons meant she should have tried to evade any type of engagement with the Cylons. Hence, what she did had been reckless at best and as a result many had paid with their lives. And she could talk about them being at war and that losses were inevitable or about the fact that she was able to destroy three baseships all day long. She should have fled the engagement, period.

And apparently, Sylus had forgotten to mention the little fact that he was awaiting a task force instead of a raptor too. He would need to have a few words with the man. Or maybe toss him out of an airlock instead, and be done with him for good.

He hadn't decided yet which one he'd choose.

At this particular moment though, he was having a massive headache mostly caused by Cain and the Vice President's squabbling. They were having a difference in opinion on what Roslin's authority was concerning Cain's mission. Does she have the power to decide if Cain should or shouldn't take the shield generator or not?

On one hand, Adama was more than happy to stay on the sidelines and say nothing, leaving them to deal with the problem of who has the final say on their own. On the other hand, those two were not making much progress. They were repeating the same arguments over and over, neither one of them giving an inch, one-way or the other. To Roslin's credit though, she wasn't allowing Cain to roll all over her - which Adama hadn't expected from the former Secretary of Education - but Cain was being Cain and she wasn't about to give up either. She had orders from the Admiralty and the president.

Orders she was intent on following.

"Admiral Cain," Adama said, making the Admiral stop her rumbling and turn to look at him. "I'm not going to discuss here your recent actions and why you decided to face the Cylons in battle, even though in my opinion it wasn't part of your mission to engage the enemy. But even to you it must be clear that, at this point, your situation is not great. You have lost three gunships meant as reinforcement for the Expeditionary Fleet, you've lost one Valkyrie, and the second one and the Pegasus have sustained considerable damage. As I see it, with what's left of your task force you are not capable of completing your mission."

"I disagree, Admiral Adama," Cain spat back. "Our jump drives are in working order, which means we can leave for Colonial space even now."

"Yes, and if the Cylons find you, the best outcome we can hope for is for them to destroy your ships! Because, if they capture you, instead of bringing the shield prototype back to the Colonies, you will have delivered it straight into their hands! You could actually end up being the reason we lose the entire war."

"And why do you think the shield prototype is any safer with you?"

"First and foremost, because we have four undamaged warships in the Fleet. And second, because the shield is installed and it's working, and that gives us a great tactical advantage."

"Then I can install it on the Pegasus, giving me the same tactical advantage."

"You could, but I'm not keeping the Fleet weeks or maybe even a month here while you perform the necessary repairs to your ship and the needed modifications in order for the shield generator to be installed, tested and whatnot. And all this means you'd have to stay here alone while you perform the changes and repairs. A very easy target if you ask me."

"And why wouldn't you wait while I preform the necessary repairs and installation of the shield, Admiral?"

"Admiral Cain, I have _one hundred_ civilian ships that are under my protection. I'm not keeping them here when I know the Cylons are in this region looking for us. You may think your mission is more important than mine is, but that simply isn't true - not to me anyway."

"Neither is to me," Roslin added.

Cain was definitely in minority here, and she didn't like it. She could even understand their reasoning, and she could even share some of their concerns about her going on a perilous and long journey back home, with the only two remaining and half-wracked ships. And in hindsight, she knew she should have fled the moment the Cylons had shown up. But she was fed up with always giving the Cylons the initiative. She'd done exactly that back in the Colonies for the past two months, with the fleet reacting only to a direct Cylon attack, and only if the odds were clearly on their side. And she wanted to show the Cylons that they were not going to be an easy opponent they can simply stomp over. Of course, the moment the first ship in her task force, one of the Valkyries, had informed her that they'd lost their jump drive, it had already been too late. She couldn't have left then, she couldn't have left the ship to die alone, and she had no other choice but to fight to the bitter end.

And a bitter end it really had ended up being. Her fleet had been able to destroy three Cylon ships, but only at the cost of the three defender-class gunships and a Valkyrie, and with massive damage having been sustained by the remaining Valkyrie and Pegasus. She actually wasn't completely certain why the remaining two baseships had even decided to leave the battle. Maybe she could have even won against those two – the Pegasus was a very powerful and sturdy ship after all, and the remaining Cylon ships had sustained damage as well – but not before the rest of her ships were turned into floating wreckage, unable to be repaired without the presence of a shipyard.

This was all well and good, recrimination for what she'd done would have to come at some point, and she knew that her return back into Colonial space wouldn't be too well received, definitely not with congratulatory celebrations or a promotion for a job well done. But that was for the future. The present was what was important, and presently, she had a mission to complete. And that was the safe return of the shield generator to the Colonies.

"Miss Vice President, Admiral Adama, I have orders from the Admiralty and the president. And there's nothing in those orders that would change the parameters of my mission in the eventuality of my task force having sustained damage. I still need to return the shield generator to the Colonies, and the orders I've received are not negotiable."

"I beg to differ, Admiral," Roslin said. "As admiral Adama has rightly pointed out, you following those orders could mean delivering dangerous technology to our enemy. And since I'm the highest representative of our government here, and we have no way for the president to countermand my decision, I do have the authority to change your orders in as far as to prevent the Cylons from getting the shield generator. I am sorry, Admiral, but the shield generator stays with the Expeditionary Fleet. And I also urge you to consider the possibility of your task force staying with us as well. I won't order you to do so, because the Admiralty gave you the specific order to return, but I will not allow the shield generator to fall into enemy hands."

Cain was turning red with anger, and she was ready to spit back a nasty reply, but Sylus' sudden entrance stopped her from possibly making a cardinal mistake. She was after all talking to the vice president, and the president wasn't anywhere around.

"I found him!" Sylus blurted out.

Adama turned to look at the man who had just entered the room. He then proceeded to check if he had his gun holstered. Thankfully, he didn't. If he did, he would have ripped a new hole in the man, consequences be damned. He smiled, thinking that maybe the rest of the people in the room, not Cain though, would even start cheering if he blew the man's head. There was not much love between Sylus and the rest of the people in the Fleet anyway.

He quickly put the silly thought aside, noticing the flinch in Sylus. It was as if the man had understood what Adama wanted to do to him. Maybe he really did notice his mischievous grin, or the fact that he went for where the missing holster and gun usually were.

"Mr. Sylus, I know that, in your head, you're the most important person in the universe, and that everyone else is only here to listen to you, but even you must realize that this is a _closed_ meeting between two Admirals and the Vice President."

Sylus was getting angry, and it was clearly showing on his face. The arrogant admiral was once again talking to him in a way no one should. In the past, he had killed people for much less. And yet, he understood that confronting the admiral at this point would accomplish nothing positive, especially since he had the slight feeling the admiral was really pissed at him, and even ready to shoot him if he angered him even more. He would have to swallow his pride once again. "I apologize, Admiral, but the information I have couldn't wait. I was able to compare the list of people who worked on the alien craft with the list of possible infiltrators - those that do not have anyone in the Colonies who can vouch for their real identity - and one individual stands out. He's a worker under Chief Tyrol."

"How certain are you that this man is a spy?" Adama asked. There was no point in not discussing this now that they'd already been interrupted, no matter how much he disliked the man.

"I'm almost completely certain, Admiral. The man in question, Joshua, doesn't have any living relatives or friends who know him. The only person who is remembering Joshua, and that is still alive, knew him when they were in high school. From his description, it appears Joshua is not the same man as the one we have on board. Also, from what the Admiralty was able to ascertain, he should have been on Caprica when the Cylons first attacked. There's no record on how he survived or how he showed up on Picon before the Fleet left. Even the documents that have reassigned him to the Galactica seem bogus. The Admiral responsible for assigning the crew doesn't remember having ever signed such documents. He can't be certain because it was a frantic time, and he had a lot of documents he needed to sign, but the admiral says he would probably remember if he did."

Adama was thoughtful. What Sylus had been able to gather was circumstantial evidence. Even the Admiral who'd signed the transfer wasn't a hundred percent certain he hadn't signed the transfer documents, which meant this could be nothing more than a big mistake. On the other hand, he couldn't simply discard such plethora of evidence. There were simply too many corroborating facts to do just that. Bogus documents, nobody of his family or close friends alive, a person who says he looked differently two decades ago than how he's looking now, and him being on Picon when evidence says he should have been on Caprica. It was simply too much to discard Sylus' accusation.

Adama turned to one of the marines, "Find him, and put him under arrest."

The marine nodded, and left the room.

"Admiral, since he is accused of being a spy, the interrogation should be conducted by the CID," Sylus said.

Adama rolled his eyes. He didn't like it, but he knew that this was exactly the reason why Sylus was here. Interrogation of potential foreign spies was CID's job. Adama simply nodded, which was enough for Sylus to leave the room.

With the CID agent gone, Adama could once again focus on the main problem he was currently having, namely, Admiral Cain. The woman was stubborn. He had known that for a very long time, ever since he'd met her for the first time. "Admiral Cain, I believe that, at this moment, the most important thing is for you to tend to your injured crew members and to perform repairs of the two remaining ships in your task force. You have both medical staffs and repair crews from the Galactica and the Columbia at your disposal, but keep in mind that time is limited. We will stay here for no longer than two more days. In that time, you have to decide if you are staying with the Expeditionary Fleet, or if you are leaving for Colonial space. But vice president Roslin's decision stands, no matter what you decide. The shield generator stays _with _the Fleet."

Cain was literally fuming from her ears. These two had ganged up against her, and she couldn't do anything to force their hands. Even if she tried to take the shield generator by force, with the current state of her ships, she would fail miserably, and possibly ending up killing the rest of her crew in the process. And this meant she had only one choice available to her. She couldn't go back to Colonial space empty-handed, not after what had happened to the rest of her task force as a direct result of her reckless actions. If she went back like this, she would end up being crucified. No, the only possible course of action currently available to her was to stay with the Fleet. Stay, repair her ships, and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

"Of course, Admiral. I'll take my leave now. Miss Vice President," Cain said with a small nod, before turning and leaving the room.

Roslin watched as the Admiral walked out of the room, before turning to face Adama. "What do you think? Is it over?"

Adama sighed. "For now, yes. But I wouldn't put money on Cain giving up so easily. I think she'll decide to stay with the Fleet, but thinking that she will just roll over would be a mistake. She received precise orders from the Admiralty and the president, and after the debacle where she lost half of her task force, the only way she remains an admiral is for her to get the shield generator back to Colonial space."

"That's what I was thinking too. So, we now not only have to watch for the Cylons trying to kill us and for spies in our midst, but also we need to watch against our own people," Roslin said, sighing in frustration. "I don't like it, Bill."

"I don't like it either, but we did the right thing, and I'm not only thinking about the tactical advantage the shield is providing to us. I'm also thinking of the danger if we let Cain take it back. We can't risk having two severely damaged ships to take such important piece of technology back to Colonial space."

"I agree, but one thing that Cain said also made me worried."

"And that was?"

"Are we certain the shield generator is any safer with the Fleet?"

"Safer, yes. Safe, no," Adama responded. The Cylons knew about the Galactica having a shield now, which meant they would be coming for it.

* * *

The following punch made Joshua almost lose consciousness.

It had all started pretty civilized. They'd come for him in the hangar bay, and had simply asked him to follow them to the brig. He didn't exactly know why they were putting him under arrest, but he had a very strong suspicion on the why. And he didn't have much of a choice either. Resisting would have been futile, so he'd decided to follow the three marines to the brig where they'd lock him up in a cell, while the entire time playing dumb by asking what was going on and why were they placing him under arrest. The marines, of course, had said nothing.

It was to be expected.

It had been maybe half an hour, or forty-five minutes tops, before somebody had finally shown up, in which time he'd spent thinking of what he'd do once they came. He knew they would interrogate him, and he knew it would be about the blown up Tel'tak. What he didn't know was, what kind of intel they had been able to gather to make him a suspect. And he knew that, not knowing that, could cost him dearly.

Three men had entered his cell, and he knew only one of them by name. Sylus was the lead CID agent stationed on the Galactica he'd seen many times wandering the halls, while the other two, if he recalled correctly, were his grunts. This definitely didn't bode well. He knew the type, and if they'd been tasked with his interrogation, he had a strong suspicion it wasn't going to be a cakewalk.

Sylus had started with a few simple questions about his past, or rather about the past of the person he was pretending to be. He'd learned everything he could about Joshua, the man that had died on Caprica when the Cylons had first attacked the planet. He knew the man's past as much as it had been possible to be learned from the intel the TIA had on him, and his only hope was that the CID agents had the same information to work with. And nothing more than that.

It looked as if Sylus was unable to find anything to break through with his questioning, anything that would put him into a position he couldn't answer correctly, but then the man had asked him about a certain _dude_ with who he'd _supposedly_ gone to high school. As far as he knew, nobody from Joshua's past had survived the initial attack on Caprica, but, if what the agent was telling him was the truth, one somehow must have - one the TIA doesn't know anything about. If they did, they would have never used Joshua's identity to infiltrate the Fleet.

Of course, the CID agent knew more about this individual than he knew, which wasn't difficult since he knew exactly zero… zilch… nada about the man. And it was this question, and the lack of an adequate answer, that had confirmed to the CID agent that he indeed wasn't Joshua, a Colonial born and raised on Caprica almost forty years ago.

He had played the dumb card again and again, telling the agent he couldn't possibly remember every man he had met in his past, simply because it had been more than twenty years since he had met this particular man for what was probably the last time. But he knew the agent wasn't buying it.

And that was also the moment when the method of interrogation had drastically shifted.

That was the moment, when the beating had started.

Joshua, or rather Peter, as that was his real name, had some mixed feelings at that exact moment. On one hand, he wished Malcolm wasn't on a mission on Cloud Nine. If he were on the Galactica, he could contact Brian and a quick extraction could be put into place. It would be easy for the Prometheus to lock onto his tracking beacon and beam him away, a pass-by that would need to last for no more than thirty seconds. But since Malcolm probably didn't even know the trouble Peter was in, he knew help wasn't going to come any time soon. On the other hand, he knew Malcolm pretty well, and the man was definitely a loose cannon. He didn't know if Malcolm would have the strength to stay idle and do nothing while awaiting for rescue to come, or if he would instead go all berserk in a reckless attempt to free him. There were stories about Malcolm, from before the two of them had even met, that suggested he could do just that. And having a Malcolm going berserk on the Galactica wouldn't be a pretty sight to watch.

But this way of thinking didn't help him at all, since help, in any form and size, simply wasn't coming. He was left to his own devices, which currently were only his two hands... which were at the moment tied behind his back. Not one of the greatest situations he had ever been.

_Thank God for the nanites!_

After all, they had them just for this reason, so that no method of interrogation would work on them. One of their abilities was to lower the amount of pain he was feeling, while another was to heal his internal injuries, gradually, not to raise suspicions. Injuries he had sustained and that would have been much more serious if he didn't have the nanites inside his body.

Still, even nanites had their limits.

So, beating aside - and his diminishing willpower from not breaking the bonds holding him and beating the crap out of the CID agents for what they were doing to him - it wasn't all that bad. It wasn't easy either though. He could easily break free, with the nanites and the increased muscle and bone density his advanced physiology was providing him with, and the three CID agents could end up dead even before they uttered the word – '_How?_'

But he couldn't do that. He simply couldn't. A short moment of pleasure for punishing these three agents for what they were doing to him would accomplish nothing in the long run. He would still be on the Galactica, surrounded by marines, and no matter what advantages he had over them, there were simply too many of them to fight them all and still survive. And it would also prove, without any shadow of a doubt, that he indeed wasn't a Colonial.

Another punch connected with his chin. He lost a tooth this time.

"Tell me who you are and what your mission is!" Sylus yelled.

Joshua was looking down, half-unconscious. He was faking it, for the most part. "Joshua… I'm… I'm… from Caprica."

This time, he got a punch from another agent standing behind him, straight in his right kidney.

"Stop lying! We won't stop until you tell us the truth!" Sylus shouted again.

_For being a CID agent, he knows very little about interrogation methods. He's too angry, too much bent on brute force to extract information efficiently. Sylus is a blunt instrument, nothing more. He should take lessons from Malcolm. Or maybe not… since I'm currently on the wrong side of the interrogation table._

"I'm not lying! _Please,_ stop this!" Joshua began pleading. He didn't think it would work, but at this point, it couldn't hurt either.

Sylus grabbed Joshua/Peter by his hair, pulled his head up and looked straight into his eyes. "I know you are lying. I already caught you in a lie. Now, tell me who you really are if you want for this to ever stop. What's the Thirteenth Colony's real goal?"

"I didn't lie! I just don't remember the man. What do you want from me? It was twenty years ago!"

Sylus was ready to punch Joshua again, when a sharp voice stopped him.

"Stop!" Apollo shouted as he entered the brig and noticed what was going on. He nodded to the marine standing in front of the cell who promptly opened the door to let him in. Apollo stepped inside. "What do you think you're doing?"

Sylus' frustration was peaking. Why were these people always telling him what to do… or not to do? "Captain Adama, this is a CID investigation, and you have no business being here. Leave, now!"

Adama moved quickly, stopping only inches in front of the CID agent. "I will do no such thing! You are beating senseless a member of Galactica's crew who you are not even sure is a spy! That's right, I read the report you gave to the Admiral, and I know you only have circumstantial evidence. And I also think the Admiral wouldn't approve of the methods you're using to extract information. Besides, didn't anyone tell you that beating a man senseless rarely gives positive results? I'm actually stunned the man didn't already tell you whatever you wanted to hear, just for you to stop beating him."

The quick way Apollo got into his face, made Sylus flinch and step back. The entire Adama family was clearly a bunch of crazies. And the situation was quickly going in the wrong direction. The other two agents had quickly moved in their direction as well, which had provoked the two marines standing in front of the cell to do the same, and they had a very ugly grin on their face. If the other agents attacked Apollo, the marines would turn them all into paste in very short order. You did not mess with the military if you were not _from_ the military, period. And attacking a captain would be the perfect excuse for the two marines to beat the crap out of all three of them, and consequences be sorted out later… _if ever!_

Sylus quickly motioned for the other two agents to stop, stepping one more step back before putting both hands in a placating gesture. "Captain, as I have told you already, this is a CID interrogation and this man here is _not_ a crew member of the Galactica, but a foreign _spy!_ I already caught him in a lie, and it is only a matter of time before he breaks."

"You… you didn't catch me in a lie. I… I just don't remember the man you're talking about. It's been a long time ago… you… you can't expect me to remember every man I ever met," Joshua said in a hushed voice, while sobbing. In his opinion, he should have become an actor. More money, and _definitely _less beating.

"Is this true? You're convinced this man is a spy just because he can't remember a person from his past?"

"It isn't only that. There's simply too many coincidences. This man _is_ a spy!"

"Mr. Sylus," Apollo began saying, with an authoritative voice, "You'll stop this at once! Am I making myself clear?"

Sylus didn't like it. This man was stopping him from doing his job. And there was no doubt in his mind that this man was in fact a spy. And yet, the captain, backed up by the two marines who probably didn't like what he was doing either, was determined in stopping him.

Sylus caught with the corner of his eye as another CID agent hurriedly entered the brig and quickly approached him. "What is it?"

"The test results are back," the agent promptly replied.

Sylus had sent Joshua's blood to be analyzed and compared with the dead and desiccated pilot they had found inside the craft, the instant they had brought him to the brig. If their DNA were a near match, there would be no need to catch him in a lie. He would have all the proof he needed. And since he was already one hundred percent certain that this man was a spy, there was no doubt in his mind what the test would confirm.

Sylus grinned. This would be the proof he needed to make the members of the Adama family, or at least one of them, finally shut up. "And?"

"It's not a match," the agent replied, flatly.

Sylus face turned green. No, there was no way he was wrong. The_ test_ must be wrong. This man _was_ a Thirteenth Colony's spy, and there was no doubt about it in his mind. "The test must be wrong! Do it again!"

Joshua was forcing himself not to grin. This was better than what he could have ever hoped for. The idiots have compared his blood, his DNA, to that of a long dead Jaffa.

_Ha! Of course it doesn't match!_

The newly arrived CID agent continued. "I already did - just to be certain - and there are no similarities between the two samples. But the blood sample did give a positive result on the Cylon test."

Joshua went pale. _Oh, come on! _

Both Sylus and Apollo looked at each other, blinking, while processing the new information. Then, they both turned to look at Joshua, with clear disgust.

"So, we were wrong," Sylus said. "We were infiltrated by the Cylons and not the Thirteenth Colony."

"It appears that way," Apollo added. "So, this is another Cylon model."

Sylus looked at Apollo again, "So, I suppose you don't have any problem if I continue with my interrogation?"

"No, I don't," Apollo replied, before turning and leaving the cell.

This _is not looking good, not good at all, _Joshua though, just before receiving another punch.

… _and another_

… _and another_

They weren't even asking questions anymore.

* * *

In the deepest recess of one of the many civilian ships in the Expeditionary Fleet, inside a small and darkly lit room – they could easily have raised the intensity of the light, but it wouldn't have been that cool – three Cylons were having a meeting of the utmost importance. It wasn't often that they would meet. It was dangerous to do so. They were, after all, in enemy territory, and eyes were everywhere. A hint of their meeting, or the Colonials knowing about one of the models, could mean doom for them all. And they could not afford to lose that many operatives inside the Expeditionary Fleet.

They simply couldn't.

Not now.

And yet, recent events had forced them to meet. They needed to come to a decision, and they needed to do it quickly, before the window of opportunity closed forever.

"I'm telling you, we have no choice but to act," One said.

Six, the one with the dark hair, wasn't of the same opinion, which wasn't strange at all. She, and the rest of her line, always sided against anything One wanted. "I don't know. It could be dangerous, and even if the mission is a success, we still lose a very important operative - an operative who already has a very important mission to complete."

One was frowning. Did Six just say that because she was against anything he'd propose, or was she actually against the mission? He wasn't sure. "I disagree, and current events support my side more than yours."

"How so?" Six asked. She really wanted to hear this.

"Boomer's current mission is to kill Adama, which is now pointless since Cain is here. There's nothing to gain by killing Adama if there's another competent admiral to lead the fleet," One replied.

"I have to disagree with the level of competence you think she has. In my opinion, she would be the perfect candidate to break apart the entire Fleet. From what we know, if she's placed in charge, she will probably take the shield generator and her half-broken task force back to the Colonies. And that could give us an even better chance of taking the prototype than what we currently have planned."

"If Adama is killed, Roslin would never allow the only remaining Admiral to leave. What she would order is for Cain to stay here or, even worse, for the entire Fleet to turn straight back for Colonial space. At this point, we have nothing to gain by killing Adama, which means Boomer can be better utilized for some other and better purpose. And an opportunity like this won't show very often, if ever again!" One spat back.

Six sighed. One was right. Using Boomer to kill Adama wasn't all that important right now, but she still wasn't completely sold on this new mission. "We are only making assumptions about the real identity of the prisoner. There's no real evidence on who he really is."

"They tested him, and the results showed he's a Cylon. Now, since we know he's not one of us, it could only mean one thing. He's a Terran, and consequently it must mean the Terrans are descendants of the Thirteenth Colony. Probably one of the colony ships that have been lost during their long voyage, found some planet and started a new civilization, probably by calling their planet Earth as well. This is the piece of the puzzle we couldn't understand - who the Terrans really are - and it is very fortunate that those morons of the Colonials think the captured man is one of _us_, and not a Terran. Ha! The idiots are now even more oblivious of what's really going on than ever before."

"But why haven't the Terrans made contact with us? Or why did they prevent us from ending the Colonials for that matter?" Six asked. There was a lot she still didn't know, and she didn't like not knowing.

At this point, the door of the cargo hold opened and a man stepped half inside before noticing them. He looked puzzled at seeing three people standing all cramped up inside the small room like morons, while doing nothing except staring back at him.

One moved quickly, grabbing the man and pulling him all the way inside. He then quickly proceeded in snapping the poor schmuck's neck.

The man fell on the floor, dead, while Four rushed to close the still open door.

"Did you really have to kill him?" Six spat back.

"It did give me some short-lived pleasure, but the most important thing right now is not to leave any witness of our meeting."

"And you think that leaving dead bodies around the ship we live on is better?"

"I'll toss him out of an airlock later. There won't be any body to be found, happy?"

"No, not really."

"Anyway, where were we? Ah, yes, why the Terrans haven't contacted us. Well, my theory is that they actually don't know they are Cylons, or brethren of the rest of the Thirteenth Colony, and that means that finding a way to contact them is of the utmost importance. We know they are very advanced, and if we can tell them who they really are, together, we can end the Colonials very quickly. Another theory, and not one I really like to contemplate, is that they know who they are, and even worse, that they know what we did to the surviving members of the Thirteenth Colony. We also know how the Thirteeners were against our plan to destroy the Colonials. _Gah!_ They wanted to make peace with them. Can you believe it?" One concluded in disgust.

Six thought about what One had just said. He was slightly twisting the story, since not all models had been against the Thirteeners' plan, but that wasn't very important right now. Making contact with this lost offshoot of the… Lost Tribe could be very advantageous for them. "All right. I get we need to make contact, but how do we intend to do that exactly?"

One grinned widely, "People _really _like to talk to priests, did you know that? From them, I've learned the CID agents are planning to transport the prisoner to the Pegasus - something about the lead CID agent not liking having the crew of the Galactica interfering with his interrogation. He thinks he will have it easier if the prisoner is on the Pegasus."

"So, you think you can intercept the transfer if Boomer is the pilot. How do you intend to program Boomer to do it?"

"I've already told you, I'm a priest. I'm scheduled to leave for the Galactica in less than an hour to go listen to more stupid confessions. Once on board, I'll find Boomer. Easy enough to program her then."

"It sounds doable. Are we in agreement then?" Six asked, receiving nods from the other two Cylons in the room.

They were going to save one of their brethren from the clutches of the Colonials.

* * *

**Author's note: **With this chapter, I'm pretty sure I have depicted the general direction where I'm going with this story. Let me rehash some clues I left throughout the story thus far.

1. Daniel thinks the Colonials are religious zealots who will treat anybody else who doesn't believe in their old gods as heretics, and he thinks they are the one mostly responsible for the restart of the war with the Cylons.

2. President Adar and the CID think the Terrans are the fabled Thirteenth Colony and that they are planning to destroy both them and the Cylons once they are weakened enough by their current war.

3. Adama and the rest of the Expeditionary Fleet think that the long dead Jaffa pilot was a Terran and that Joshua is one of the twelve Cylon models.

4. And lastly, the Cylons think that Joshua is a Cylon like them, but that this recent revelation proves that _all_ Terrans are Cylons and that they are an offshoot of the Thirteenth Colony, probably from a colonization ship that got lost during the long voyage to find Earth almost four thousand years ago.

Well, if this isn't a recipe for disaster, I don't know what is.

Add Ba'al into the mix and, well... anything and everything becomes possible.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They are always appreciated.**_


	10. Search

**Author's note:** Here comes the second part, and the conclusion of Joshua's misfortunes.

**Shane:** They have. The Walkman that is not only a Walkman, but they don't keep it with them all the time. That is the reason why they always work in pair. If one is in trouble, the other can call for help, but in this case Malcolm was busy elsewhere and unaware of Joshua's misfortune.

**Guest:** Nanites are tiny robots with their size measurable in nanometers (from there comes their name). As such, there could be many types of nanites so, do not mix replicator nanites with what the Terrans have created and are using. Their function is very different, and they were never meant to communicate with each other over great distances, to replicate or to be able to form more complex forms for that matter. In a way, you can loosely call what the Terrans have medical nanites, since their primary function is to help the host's body if needed, and nothing more.

**silkef:** glad you like it.

**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll like this chapter too.**

* * *

Joshua woke up in a dimly lit room, on a ship he had never seen or been before. What had happened to him was still fuzzy in his mind, probably as a direct consequence of the beating he had received from the CID agents. He could remember the beating, and he could definitely remember how the beating had gotten worse once they erroneously concluded he wasn't a Terran, but instead one of the twelve Cylon models. It was all because of their stupid and primitive test. After that, everything became more or less a complete blur of quick events.

He didn't know how much time it took them, but eventually they had stopped with the beating and left him alone in his cell. That was when he had promptly fallen unconscious for an unknown amount of time. When he'd awoken again, they were dragging him somewhere. He'd quickly learned they had apparently decided to transfer him to the Pegasus, and he knew it wasn't because on Pegasus they had _stricter _rules about the mistreatment of prisoners. He knew his transfer was exactly for the opposite reason.

But then, something had happened that even he couldn't have predicted. During the trip from the Galactica to the Pegasus, the pilot of the raptor simply shot both CID agents who were keeping an eye on him, without even flinching, and then she'd quickly jumped the bird away. At that moment, Joshua knew something weird was going on, and yet it still took him several more jumps before starting to suspect what their intended destination was. Again, he had been beaten pretty bad, so his brain wasn't working at its usual speed and level of concentration.

Confirmation had come after the sixth, or maybe it was the seventh - he wasn't very lucid at that point - jump when, through the window, he saw glimpses of a Cylon baseship. He immediately understood that the test the Colonials had performed on him must have come to the attention of the Cylons -another confirmation on how bad Colonial security was - and they too were probably very curious on finding out who he really was. The situation was possibly turning from bad to catastrophic, with him having no clue on how he would be able to survive this. He didn't know what the Cylons wanted or what they were planning to do to him to get it, but, whatever it was, he suspected it wouldn't be something he would particularly like.

After the raptor had docked with the baseship, two very nice Centurions had dragged him in a room and left him there for what felt like endless hours. To the Cylons' credit though, they definitely had better manners than the Colonials. They didn't dump him in a cell, but rather he'd been confined in a very nice room, with a comfortable bed, adjacent bathroom, food, water and practically anything else he could have wished for. Of course, that was except for freedom, since the doors were locked.

The doors of the room swung open and seven people slowly walked inside the room, stopping in front of the bed he was lying on.

Joshua bolted upright, watching intently at what he knew were different Cylon models. Thus far, he had known only of the Cylon they were calling Leoben, the one the Colonials had found on the abandoned station, and later studied. He knew about one more Brian had managed to identify, but he'd never saw her.

Now he knew about six more.

"Um… Hello," Joshua said, uncertain.

Six sat on the border of the bed, smiling. "Hello, Joshua, or is it some other name that we should use to call you?"

"Umm… Joshua is fine."

"Well then, Joshua, I am sure you are wondering why you're here," Six continued.

"The thought did cross my mind, yeah."

"Well, once we heard you were captured by the Colonials and suspected of being a Cylon spy, we had to save you, especially since we know you're not one of us. Do you know why the test showed you are a Cylon?"

This was the point where he should definitely _not_ tell the truth, "No."

"So, you didn't know you are a Cylon?"

"Um… no?"

"And your people don't know they are Cylons either?"

He knew he was starting to sound like a parrot, repeating the same word over and over, but what else could he say. "No."

Six turned to look at the others. "That explains a lot."

"Indeed it does," Four replied, before turning to Joshua. "Joshua, your people are descendants of the Thirteenth Colony. You are all Cylons, just like we are."

"Ah-ha… whatever you say. As long as you don't start beating me like the Colonials did, I'm fine with whatever you say."

"We are not going to beat you Joshua, we saved you," Six replied in a calm and reassuring voice. "We just want to know more about your people, maybe even meet them? Can you tell us something about your people, Joshua?"

Joshua said nothing.

Six turned again to look at the others. "He doesn't trust us."

"Understandable if he didn't even know he was a Cylon up until this moment," Three replied.

"I think we should try to extract as much memories directly from his brain as we can," One added, making all others turn and look at him. "What? We are not getting anything out of him, and this is taking too long. I think that's a viable option we should consider."

_Psycho much? _Joshua thought. That one was definitely weird. "Umm… it is very strange for me to say this, but, if I understand correctly what he means by that, I think I would rather take the beating than what he's suggesting."

The others were still looking at One, with a stern or disapproving look.

Six looked back at Joshua. "You don't have to worry about One. Nobody is going to perform any kind of invasive surgery on your brain. For now, you just rest. We will talk more later. I will send some more food your way." Six rose from the bed, nudging the other to leave.

The others took her hint and slowly left the room, closing and locking the doors behind them.

"You freak!" Six shouted at One.

"Why?"

"Why! Because we are trying to become friends with these people, that's why! And instead of helping, you shout that you want to perform brain surgery on him!" Six barked at One.

"It is taking too long! At this pace, we will die of old age before we're able to get anything useful out of him."

"We can't die of old age!" Six spat in anger.

"My point exactly," One replied, flatly.

Six was shaking her head in disapproval. "We already got useful information from him. We now know he and his people don't know they're Cylons, which is a better option than the possible alternative your double has suggested, the one in which they know what we did to the five surviving Cylons from the Thirteenth Colony."

"But we still don't know where his people are. Besides, I'm sure his people would understand the need to extract information quickly once we explain to them that they are all Cylons and that we needed to find them quickly."

"Don't give me that crap! You just want to poke inside his brain and nothing else," Three added. She knew One enough to know what made him tick.

"This conversation needs to end! There's no point in discussing this any longer. We are not going to perform surgery on him and that's final. Besides, we don't even know if they use resurrection. That operation could actually end his life for good." Four was starting to feel fed up by Six's and One's squabbling.

"I haven't even thought about that. From what we know, the Final Five restarted the resurrection process only after they found out the holocaust was coming. It is entirely possible that this offshoot of the Thirteenth Colony doesn't use it at all. Actually, if they don't even know they are Cylons, that's almost a certainty," Three added, thoughtfully.

"Fine, we are not performing any surgery on him, but we still need to make him talk. We also need to contact our people and tell them what is going on here, because –"

She acted really fast. "Your turn!" Six shouted, while already having drawn the small and previously concealed gun she had on her. One's head blew up before he could even end his sentence.

Five gave a stern look at Six, and she didn't know why exactly. "What?"

"Maybe you could have waited a little. Maybe some of us would have liked to give a message of our own before you blew his head off," Five replied.

"No way I'm waiting for him to draw first."

Eight looked puzzled at what had happened. They were again using this new and awesome way of faster-than-light communication she, thus far, had only heard in conversation, but never had witnessed firsthand. "Does everyone carry a weapon these days?"

"I do," Three said.

"Me too," Four confirmed.

The others simply nodded, with five even showing her the one he was carrying behind his back and another one holstered around his ankle.

"I suppose this means I should start carrying one too," Eight said, slightly deflated. She had the slight feeling that not all technologies were good for your health, and especially if misused. Even though it wasn't damaging for their physical health, she was of the opinion it was definitely damaging for their mental one, she was almost certain of that. It definitely wasn't healthy to go blowing up each other's heads, even with resurrection available. "Are we sure this is a good idea? I mean, One, as he is now, is already insane. Who knows what blowing his head off repeatedly is doing to his already demented psyche."

The rest remained thoughtful for quite some time, thinking, up until the moment when Three finally decided to reply. "I think the opposite is true. He's already demented, so he's probably the best candidate for this new way of FTL communication. He can't get much worse than he already is, right? We might!"

"I agree. We should use him as much as possible," Six added, grinning widely.

"Do we have consensus?" Four asked.

Everybody nodded in complete agreement.

* * *

_Through the closed doors, Joshua listened intently to the very disturbing conversation these Cylons were having._

_There was no point in denying the truth of his situation._

_They were nuts…_

…_and he was a dead man._

* * *

As Malcolm walked to his bunk, he thought how he'd never seen so much turmoil on board the Galactica as he had today. His mission on the Cloud Nine had been uneventful, the same as the last three times he had to go there to meet with his informant - the usual boring job somebody needed to do week after week. He didn't mind doing it though, since it gave him the chance to leave the Galactica for a short time. It wasn't as if life on the Galactica was all that exiting either.

Of course, this time, he would have preferred if he'd stayed on the ship. The moment he had stepped back on the ship, he knew something was different. People were talking, spitting theories left and right on what was going on. If you listened to some, business was as usual. If you listened to others, the end of days was coming, any moment now. So, it took him some time to sort out all the relevant theories and actually come up with one of his own.

The first thing he'd found out, and that he was pretty sure was a real fact that had actually happened, was that they had captured a spy who'd turned out to be a Cylon. At first, nobody he'd asked knew who this spy was, but then he met with Chief Tyrol who told him that Joshua had been put under arrest, and that probably the Cylon spy they were all talking about was in fact him.

Malcolm didn't know what to think. How could they think that Joshua was a Cylon, and what proof had pointed them at him as being one in the first place?

His first thought, after he'd learned the CID had been tasked with the interrogation, had been to find a quick way to free him. Maybe take some weapons, and storm the brig. He would think about what to do afterwards later. But then, he heard the rumor that the prisoner was being transferred to the Pegasus, which indeed complicated things considerably, since there was no way he could find an excuse to go to the other ship. What he then decided to do was to quickly go to his bunk and contact Brian, and maybe he could mount a quick extraction. But, while he was walking to his shared room, he heard some more rumors. Now, people were talking about the raptor that was transporting the prisoner to the Pegasus, having disappeared. The prisoner apparently had never reached the Pegasus.

Malcolm stormed into his room, glancing around to see if there were people inside. Thankfully, there was no one present. With the rumors and chaotic situation on the ship, it wasn't strange that other marines had gone to their posts, or at the very least went in the common rooms to listen to more theories on what was really going on.

Malcolm grabbed his Walkman, mentally instructing it to contact Brian.

* * *

In the Intelligence Gathering Room (IGR), aboard the Prometheus, Brian and several other TIA agents were working on their consoles. The job of intelligence gathering was, for the most part, a very tedious one. An agent, if he wasn't in the field, would spend endless hours analyzing data from all sources, trying to sort out important information, mostly from garbage. Even with the advent of advanced software and AIs, agents still needed to go through all the data to make sure nothing had been missed.

And Brian also needed to prepare the monthly report for his boss, Klaus, of what new information they had been able to collect. In Brian's opinion, they needed to pay more attention to the Colonial-Cylon war, but the Council was still focused on their wars against the other races that were still threatening them. It was true that compared to a threat like the Ori, Wraith or Aschen, the Cylons were a small fish in a very vast pond, but if there was something Brian was certain of, was that with machines you never knew what to expect. He had studied the evolution of the replicators, from the moment they had emerged in Ida and, although the Cylons were different, he did have the feeling they could quickly progress to a point where they might become a serious threat. So, in his opinion, they should be dealing with them now rather than wait until the situation became worrisome. He knew many ships would be needed for this task if they wanted to contain the Cylons efficiently, mostly because they didn't know where the Cylons were and because their jump drive gave them the ability to quickly disappear without notice, but he was still afraid the Council would wait for too long.

He hoped he was just being paranoid.

Brian's console chirped, informing him of a communication request coming from Malcolm. Brian straightened up in his chair. This wasn't a scheduled communiqué, which meant something unexpected had happened.

He opened the connection. "What is it Malcolm?"

"_Boss, we have a big problem here. Joshua was arrested under suspicion of being the spy that had sabotaged the Tel'tak. They later did some testing and concluded he's a Cylon."_

_Cylon spy? _Brian thought. They needed to act quickly, "Malcolm, we can be there in fifteen minutes. We will beam Joshua away the moment we are in range. Do you need extraction as well?"

"_Um… it is not that simple, Boss. From what I was able to ascertain, the Colonials decided to transfer him from the Galactica to the Pegasus, but he never reached the other ship. I'm just hearing rumors, so I can't be sure, but, apparently, the raptor jumped away during transport, and nobody here knows why or where it went. There are a few people who think the CID has something to do with the raptor's disappearance – there were two agents on board the raptor – but I'm not sure about that. Somehow it doesn't make sense for the CID to do something like this, not when they already had him in their custody."_

Now this was some worrisome information. "All right, Malcolm, we will start canvasing the area around the Expeditionary Fleet. Maybe we will get lucky and pick up his transponder signal. How long ago did the raptor disappear?"

"_Not sure, Boss. An hour, maybe an hour and a half ago, tops."_

It was a lot. In that time, the raptor could have jumped several times and the new transponders, all agents had, was able to broadcast a few light-years tops. "We will start the search. You, Malcolm, try to find out as much as you can on your end. Maybe they have some theories on what has happened that can help us in our search."

"_Will do, Boss. I'll make contact, the moment I know something. Malcolm out."_

Brian closed the connection, and bolted on his feet and out of the room. There was no time to waste. Every minute, the area they needed to search got bigger and bigger.

* * *

Ba'al had become a very pragmatic symbiote, and he could even remember the exact moment when he had. It was the moment when he had to.

It had been the sudden rise of the Tau'ri that had forced him to change. Up until that moment, he'd been the same as any other Goa'uld. A delusional egomaniac who thought nobody could ever face the Goa'uld Empire and survive. But, while his brethren had continued in their delusions of grandeur, he had started to analyze the situation they were facing. The Ta'uri were on the rise, there was no question about it, but they alone were still a small fish in a very fast pond, a pond still ruled by the Goa'uld. But he had also noticed something the other Goa'uld did not. They were all under the impression that the Asgard were not fighting them, and instead using only their Protected Planets Treaty as a way of limiting their influence, because they simply didn't have the strength. While this was probably true, Ba'al had started to think about why exactly that was. He knew the Asgard were far more advanced than they were and that alone was telling him that the Asgard should have been able to fight them much more efficiently. But since they hadn't, he'd concluded that they must have problems of their own in their home galaxy. And that meant there was somebody powerful enough to give even the Asgard pause and stop them from diverting more resources to the Milky Way galaxy. But, since he knew that conflicts could not possibly last forever, it was only logical to think that, eventually, there would be a victor. And no matter if the Asgard won or if the other side did, the Goa'uld would eventually have to face a very powerful enemy.

And his fear had become a reality when the Tau'ri had helped the Asgard fight their long lasting enemy, the replicators and, by doing so, freeing them from the chains limiting their influence in other galaxies. It was a bad situation, and it was the reason he had sided with Anubis. _That_ and the fact that, if he hadn't, the psycho would have tortured him until he changed his mind.

Unfortunately, he'd bet on the wrong horse, which had become apparent very quickly and especially true after he'd found out that a race from the Andromeda galaxy, apparently led by an Alterran, had sided with the Tau'ri and Asgard. This was the exact moment he'd understood that it was time to change scenery, as well as become very pragmatic and cautious. From this point on, he could no longer let his ego decide what his following moves would be, because if he did, and tried to rule over some planet in a ridiculously stupid attempt to recreate the Goa'uld Empire once again, he would have ended up like his brethren or clones - dead, buried and long forgotten.

Currently he'd been just long forgotten, which was fine by him.

But he couldn't pass on an opportunity such as the one that had recently presented to him. The Colonies were untouched territory, with the only problem to have to deal with some robotic race called the Cylons. There were still some things he didn't know though. Apparently, some lost colony of theirs - the host didn't much know about them because the government was keeping it secret – was somehow involved. He knew Admiral Cain's taskforce was meeting with the Expeditionary Fleet that had been tasked with finding the fabled Thirteenth Colony after they had helped them repel the initial Cylon attack, but not much more than that.

Fortunately, he wasn't with the taskforce anymore. After he had flown the raptor back to the Pegasus, he'd been tasked to return to the Colonies with the information of the newly discovered world, word about the people they'd found on it and the availability of Tylium in the system. The Colonies were apparently using the material as their main chemical fuel. They were using it for practically everything and they could never have enough of it.

So, once he'd returned to Picon Anchorage, and had delivered the news to some admiral, he'd started thinking on how to stay in the Colonies for good. The first thought was to find a different host while discarding the current one, but he knew that leaving a trail of bodies wasn't very stealthy. And he couldn't leave his current host alive either. There would be too many facts the pilot would be able to tell others to allow that. No, he had to find a different way to stay.

What he did was to go to the bathroom and simulate a slip on the wet floor - the bathroom floor _he_ had made wet - and in the process, he _accidentally_ broke the host's right ankle.

He'd actually enjoyed sensing the host's pain.

Once he'd done that, he only needed to keep the host from healing until the station's doctor completed his examination and placed his foot in a cast. And then, he'd suddenly stopped being eligible for active duty, and placed on medical Leave.

Once he'd reached his apartment in the capital city of Picon, the real planning had begun - the planning on how he was going to infiltrate the Colonies. Of course, his first thought was to take their leader, their president, as his next host, but that was his ego talking and he'd promised himself that he'd be careful, and not rush anything. Besides, the Colonies needed his help to fight the Cylons, and there wasn't much he could accomplish if he took a politician as his next host. Not if he was planning to uplift the Colonials. And he did intend to do just that. There were also elections coming and there was not much point in taking a host that could very well lose the presidency in less than a month. It would actually be pretty stupid of him if he did that.

Since the president wasn't a good candidate, he'd started thinking of whom he could take that could help him uplift the Colonials without raising too much suspicion. Searching through their global network, he'd quickly found out that, even after the fall of Caprica, Graystone Industries retained the primacy as the biggest R&D company for the military, currently residing in the surviving research facilities they had on Picon. The company was currently doing almost 70% of the total military research and development, with Robert Desai as one of their leading scientists who worked on developing completely new theories and their possible application. He, indeed, was the best candidate for what he intended to do. Such host would give him the much-needed knowledge on the Colonials' current tech level, as well as the needed access to their most advanced research facilities.

And that was why, at that exact moment, he was standing in his current host's bedroom, with an unconscious Robert Desai - he'd kidnapped early this afternoon - lying on the bed in front of him.

Ba'al forced his host to take the syringe standing on the nightstand that he had previously filled with an overdose of what passed as the most potent recreational drug in the Colonies. He could sense the terror his host was feeling as he must have understood what he was about to force him to do.

He was glad.

Ba'al stuck the needle in the host's arm, injecting the entire content into his vain. Almost immediately, he begun sensing the euphoria the drug was causing to his host. Too bad he didn't have the time to savor the man's last moments of life. He needed to leave now, while he still could. He exited the host from his mouth - so he would leave the least evidence possible - and leapt on the bed. He then found his way to the back of his next host's neck and quickly went inside.

Ba'al's new host woke up abruptly, immediately standing upright in the bed. Ba'al could sense the surge of new knowledge and memories flooding him, and the terror and confusion of his new host, just the same as he could now see through his new host's eyes as his former host crumbled onto the floor. The man quickly began convulsing. Ba'al knew the overdose would kill him shortly, and whoever found the body, would think the man had simply OD-ed.

Just another junky who didn't know when to stop.

There was something curious about his new host's memories though and that his previous host didn't know anything about. Apparently, Graystone Industries had come in possession of some pieces of hardware from an unknown spacecraft. And from the memories of the host, he knew those had belonged to a Tel'tak. This could greatly help him _fake_ the discovery of new technologies. Too bad there were only pieces of the ship and not the entire thing. With an entire Tel'tak at his disposal, he could practically fake the development of everything he wanted. Instead, with only a few pieces, he would have to get creative.

He hated this research crap, even though he knew most of it on a genetic level. He always rather gave the research and development to some other, _lesser_, Goa'uld like Nerus. But he didn't have that option now. He would have to do most of the tedious work by himself. Still, there was a chance he could use the bunch of other scientists working in Graystone Industries to do at least some of the tedious work, while he came up with the parts he knew they wouldn't understand or that would take them too long to comprehend - he didn't have unlimited time after all. Robert Desai was going to become the lead scientist in the Colonies, even more famous than Gaius Baltar. And only after he laid the ground for the next massive burst of new technologies in the Colonies, would he go for his next host, the president of the Colonies, whoever he might be at the time.

It was time to leave the dead pilot's apartment, and go see his new place of employment, the Graystone Industries' research division on Picon.

It was time to begin uplifting the Colonies.

* * *

Adama was slowly losing his patience. He'd been at it for ten minutes now, and he had other, more important things he needed to deal with too. But, apparently, Cain - with whom he had been at it over a comm. channel - was clearly trying to stall. "Admiral, there is no point in waiting for the lost raptor to return."

"_Admiral Adama, it's been only twelve hours since we've lost contact with the raptor. We should wait for at least a few days to see if it were only a faulty jump."_

Adama rolled his eyes in frustration. The missing raptor didn't jump erroneously and Cain knew that. She just wanted to stay here for as long as she could so she could make repairs to her ships and maybe then restart their previous, and endless, discussion about Roslin's decision to keep the shield generator with the fleet.

And this hadn't been her first attempt either. It had been to send a raptor back to the Colonies and ask for the fleet to wait until the craft returned, with new instructions from the Admiralty. She wanted them to stay here for possibly up to _two weeks_, or even more if the raptor was, for some unforeseen reason, delayed. She was definitely insane if she thought that such simpleminded ruse could have ever worked.

After she understood the Fleet _wasn't_ going to wait, she began insisting that they needed to wait for the missing raptor because, in her personal opinion, the raptor hadn't jumped intentionally, but rather it had been because of a malfunction. The idea not only was ridiculous, but even if it was true that the raptor had jumped because of an electronic glitch, which it definitely wasn't, twelve hours was plenty of time to repair any damage if it could ever be repaired. If it wasn't possible, they could wait here for years and the result would still remain the same. And that was only under the bogus assumption the raptor had malfunctioned, something Adama was a hundred percent certain wasn't what had happened. There were only two possibilities here. One, the raptor was jumping back to Colonial space, in which case the CID agents, for some to him unknown reason, were responsible. Or, as the second option, the raptor is on its way to the closest baseship if the Cylon spy had somehow taken control or if Boomer had, but that would mean she was a Cylon too. And even though he didn't like any of these scenarios, he knew there was no third one available. The raptor was going back home or toward the closest baseship, and there hadn't been any malfunctions, as Cain was suggesting, period.

"Admiral Cain, the Fleet is jumping in twenty minutes. You can jump with us, or you can stay here and wait for the missing raptor, it is your choice, but this is my final decision. Adama out," Adama said, quickly motioning to Dee to kill the connection. There would simply be no more discussion, and if she decided to stay here, there was no way she could later catch up with them, which was fine with him too.

Adama sighed. His stress level was rising again, and he still needed to deal with Gaius Baltar. He wasn't predicting there would be any problems, but even the thought of having to talk to the self-absorbed man, with a god complex, was enough to make his blood pressure climb fast. "Doctor Baltar, how is this going to work?"

Gaius raised his head from the console he was looking at. "Uh, yes, Admiral, just one moment."

Adama raised an eyebrow. The doctor had two hours to finalize his latest contraption and he was still making him wait. "Whenever you're ready, Doctor." He was being sarcastic, but he doubted the doctor had noticed.

"All right, all done." Gaius began. "Well, this navigation system I've come up with is completely separated from the rest of Galactica's systems, so there's no need to worry about a virus infecting it… and maybe giving us the coordinates for the next jump inside a star." He'd attempted a joke, and he'd even smiled, but nobody else was laughing. Gaius decided to continue. "Anyway, our next jump will take us twenty light years from here, and the new system was able to calculate the coordinates in a little less than an hour. As you know, the time it takes to calculate a jump raises almost exponentially, and for a jump of around fifty light-years it takes almost ten hours to calculate the coordinates. I don't think that we will use longer jumps than that."

"Doctor, why are we not testing a fifty light years jump and instead just twenty? I thought we were trying to test the system's limits," Adama asked.

"Yes, we are going to, but the new navigation system isn't the only thing we need to test. No one has ever before tried to jump twenty light years, and especially nobody has ever tested the jump limits of old ships like the Galactica and several others in the rest of the fleet. We need to see how our jump drives fare with such long jumps. The power requirements will also rise because of the longer jumps. Not by as much as somebody would think, mostly because most of the needed energy is used during the formation of the initial rapture in space, no matter how distant the destination point actually is. But there's still an increase in the power requirements, and that's what we need to monitor closely."

"So, what do we do once the new nav-system gives us the coordinates?"

"We simply input the coordinates manually into the jump drive, as well as broadcast them to the rest of the fleet."

"Very well. Dee, notify the fleet we are about to jump, and send them the coordinates once the Doctor gives them to you."

"Yes, sir," Dee replied, broadcasting the message for the Fleet to prepare. "The Pegasus is also requesting the jump coordinates, sir."

"Good." Apparently, Cain had understood there wouldn't be any more discussion on the subject. "Start the clock, Mr. Gaeta."

In thirty seconds, the fleet jumped away.

And from this point on, there would be no more contacts with the Colonies.

* * *

Brian was really starting to worry. They had been searching for Joshua for more than an hour now and there was still no trace of his transponder signal, which wasn't even that difficult to understand why. The subcutaneous transponders all agents had, hadn't been built with long range in mind. Instead, it was built to be the smallest possible and with a shielding coat that would prevent its discovery against most scanning equipment. Still, the Terrans knew that having the ability to detect it at longer ranges could be of great comfort to the agents. Because of it, the transponder would intermittently boost its broadcasted signal every two minutes, creating a single spike that could theoretically be detected at a distance of up to ten light-years. Of course, the transponder wasn't the only piece important in the detection process. The receiving end was as important as the transponder was and, unfortunately, the Prometheus wasn't the latest ship in the Terran arsenal, and it hadn't gone through an upgrade to its sensor suite in quite some time. The new Copernic class exploration vessel could probably detect the small implant's signal at an even greater distance than ten light-years. As it was though, the Prometheus could maybe hope to detect the signal at no more than four light-years away. And even worse than that, since the spike would occur in a two minutes interval, they couldn't even travel at their max achievable speed if they didn't want to miss it in their search grid.

Brian knew that, without limiting the region of space they had to look, the chances of finding Joshua were minute. So, he'd started thinking on how to limit the area they needed to check. His idea was that the raptor had probably been taken by a _real_ Cylon spy. The Cylons must have found out about the Colonials suspecting Joshua of being a Cylon himself, and they probably wanted to find out more on how that was even possible. So, he tried to think like the pilot of the raptor. He or she would want to find a Cylon baseship in the region, but without knowing its exact location, the only thing the pilot could do was to jump to a predefined rendezvous point. Somewhere where the Cylon operatives had been told they could expect a baseship to be. And since there's not much logic in placing such point in the middle of nowhere – or at least he hoped that was the case – he predicted it would be inside some star system. Without the ability for FTL communication, the Cylons must have devised a list of star systems where a baseship, or at least a raider, would be.

The second assumption he'd made was that the rendezvous point would be _behind_ the current position of the Expeditionary Fleet relative to the Colonies, and not ahead. It was a lot of assumptions he was making, and he didn't particularly like making them, but he needed to somehow limit the search area, or they were only wasting their time.

And, this time, he got lucky.

"Sir, the long range sensors have detected the transponder's spike, 3.7 light years away," the lieutenant manning the sensors station notified his captain.

Pendergast quickly shifted in the captain's chair, glancing at his display before turning back to look at Brian who was standing just behind him. "You were right. The signal is coming from inside a star system."

"I was lucky, that's all. I'd recommend a stealthy incursion in the system, Captain, but I also suppose you were already planning to do just that."

"I was, yes," Pendergast replied, before turned to look forward. "Helm, plot a course that will takes us out of hyperspace behind the planet relative to the current signal's position, and cloak the ship the moment we are back in n-space."

"Aye-aye, Captain."

Minutes later, the Prometheus burst back into normal space behind the planet the Cylon baseship was currently circling, quickly cloaking. It was one of the few upgrades the oldest Terrans spaceship went through before its current long-term mission had started. Without it, it would be difficult for them to spy on the Colonials inconspicuously, as their mission demanded of them.

Cloaked, the ship circled around the planet, quickly reaching visual range of the Cylon, almost ten times larger, baseship.

"It looks intimidating, doesn't it?" Brian said as he watched the now visible ship on the main screen.

Pendergast grinned. "_Looks_, yes – _is, _not sure about that."

"Still, we should continue keeping a low profile. For one, because I have no intention of making contact with the Cylons at this point, and second, because we still don't have a viable defense against their jumping capabilities. They could send hundreds of raiders on a jumping frenzy, trying to get inside our shields." Brian was still of the opinion that discretion was needed. When they found out everything there was to know about the Cylons, only then an introduction would happen and not before.

"I thought our scientists reached the conclusion that a jump cannot happened inside a solid object? Something about the rapture in space not being able to form?"

"True, that's the theory anyway, but I'm not worried about them jumping _inside_ our ship, but rather next to it but still inside the shields' perimeter. Except for the Auroras that have Alterran based shields, our other ships form a perfect sphere around them, and that means there's room in-between. And there's also the fact that the Prometheus is not the newest gal on the block, sort of speak, is it?"

"No, it's not," Pendergast replied. It was true the Prometheus was far from on par with current Terran shipbuilding standards. "So, how do you want us to approach this?"

"Do we have Joshua's exact location?" Brian asked and promptly received a confirming nod from the sensors officer. "Good. Do we know if he's alone?"

"Not without going active with our sensors, sir," the same officer replied.

"Okay, that could be a problem if we're to retain a stealthy approach to this problem," Brian said, scratching his head while thinking.

"Not necessarily, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"Sir, we have both passive and active sensors that are Asgard in origin, and those work through subspace. They detect the subspace noise translated from normal space all energy emissions create, no matter how small. We know the Cylons, the same as the Colonials, don't have FTL communication or sensors that work through subspace, so it isn't too farfetched to think that they have no way of detecting Asgard active scanning."

"That's actually some very clever thinking, Lieutenant," Pendergast said, before turning to face Brian. "What do you think? We risk it?"

"I don't see we have much of a choice. We are not going to engage them in battle to free Joshua, so..."

"No, I suppose we are not," Pendergast replied. "Lieutenant, I want you to use the active sensors, just for long enough to get a clear picture of where Joshua is and if there's some Cylon in sight of him. If he's alone, you don't wait for my order. You beam him right away."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Six, and Three were on their way to see the Terran they had saved from the clutches of the Colonials. Six had insisted, and Three had completely agreed, that it was better if they were to talk to him alone, without the rest of the entourage comprised by the remaining Cylon models numbered One through Eight. They were of the opinion that Joshua, or whatever his real name was, would be much more comfortable talking to just the two of them, and especially without One blurting out loud about how they should perform live brain surgery on him in order to extract what he knew. It was stupid to say something like that while he was present, even if they were planning to do it, which they weren't. But then, Six remembered that One was probably a psycho and a sadist who thrived on watching other's reactions to similar revelations.

He definitely wasn't the diplomatic type.

"You still think the Terran agent will open up with us?" Three asked. She shared Six's belief that they should instill some amicable rapport with the Terran, but she still wasn't certain if the Terran agent would ever trust them enough to tell them where his people were or, at the very least, how they could contact them.

"Not if we start threatening him we'll open his skull," Six replied, pissed. There was a good chance One's remark had cost them some good will points in the eyes of the Terran spy. If not impossible, then it was going to be much more difficult now to become friends. It was never a good thing for the other side to think that some of your members were insane.

"But what if he doesn't come to his senses? What if he never tells us where his people are?"

"Then we open his skull and find out the hard way," Six added.

"Good, I was starting to think you were ready to spend the next several months trying to get something out of the man."

"No, if he doesn't tell us what we want to know in the next few days, we are opening him up to see what makes him tick."

As the two Cylons were reaching their destination, Joshua's room, they abruptly stopped, both clutching their heads in considerable discomfort. It wasn't exactly acute pain, but it wasn't enjoyable either.

"What the hell. It feels like my head is ready to explode!" Six said.

"Mine too," three added. The next instant, the feeling quickly began subsiding before it completely disappeared.

"It stopped. The back of my head really hurt for a moment," Six said, clueless of what could have caused it.

"Mine too. If I have to guess, I would say the part of my brain where the cluster of nanites responsible for the resurrection process was what hurt me."

"I hadn't thought about that, but I think you're right. Some interference maybe?"

"How should I know? We still don't know anything about how resurrection works. But, if both of us felt it at the same time, it definitely should be environmental. No chance it was a glitch if both of us felt it."

"We should ask the others if they felt it too, and see if the ship's systems detected something."

"Let's talk with Joshua first, and then we'll deal with whatever this was."

The room was just up ahead, and it took them less than a minute to reach it. Reach it, open the door, and find out that the room was now empty.

Joshua was nowhere to be found.

* * *

_Okay, this is definitely awkward._

Of course, Joshua - or rather Peter, as that was his real name - was incredibly relieved that he'd been saved after all that he'd gone through. But relieved was also a word he didn't like to use in the current circumstance. Of all the moments they could have saved him, they'd done it by beaming him in the middle of the bridge, just as he'd gone to the bathroom.

It definitely wasn't the way to show up in front of your boss, the captain of the Prometheus and the rest of the _freaking entire bridge crew._

_Thank God, I haven't leaked in the middle of the bridge! _

Buttoning up his pants with the speed even photons would have envied, Joshua promptly straightened up, pretending as if nothing had happened. "Um, hi Boss. Thanks for the save."

Brian was of the opinion that _everybody_ should pretend as if nobody saw anything. He knew he was going to. "I'm just glad we were able to reach you in time. I was worried what the Cylons would do to you."

"Actually, and except for one of them having suggested to open my skull to find out what secrets it holds, they were much more cordial than the Colonials ever were. Even while they thought I was from the Thirteenth Colony, the CID agents weren't very gentle. Once they began suspecting I was a Cylon, well, things quickly went for the worse then. But, on the bright side, I can happily inform you the nanites are doing a great job at healing injuries and lowering the pain."

"Good, good, I'm glad," Brian began. "Well, you know the drill. Go see the ship's doctor and get checked out, and then take some time to rest before writing a full report on what happened."

"Sure thing, Boss," Peter replied, gladly moving out of the bridge, even though it was to visit the doctor.

Pendergast turned to face Brian. "So, are we done here?"

"Not yet. Since we are here, why don't leave a nice tracking device somewhere on their baseship. Please beam one in some secluded section of the ship before we leave. I'm going back to the IGR."

"Good idea."

Brian nodded before leaving the bridge. Maybe this entire ordeal could turn out to be a positive thing if they could track at least one of the Cylons baseships.

Who knows where it could take them.

* * *

_**Please leave a review, they're always appreciated.**_


	11. Progress

**Author's note:** I didn't find the time to finish the next chapter of the other story, but I had this one already done, so, here it is.

_**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well.**_

* * *

Adar watched from the window of his new and luxurious Presidential Office, as people bellow moved in all directions. It was a busy working day in the capital city on Picon, the city that had become the new center of the Twelve Colonies' government. He was glad they'd finally been able to put together a decent office for him, as it should be for the seat of power of the Twelve Colonies. The last four months, since the initial attack on the Colonies, he had spent in less than ideal accommodations.

There was at least that, Adar thought depressingly. A new office for him to enjoy, at least for now. For now, because there was a good chance he wouldn't be staying in it for very much longer. Elections were quickly approaching, they were less than a month away and, regrettably, the current polls were showing that he wasn't in the lead, not anymore. At the beginning of the election campaign, the opposing candidates who had a chance of winning were Tom Zarek, a populist, ex prisoner and ex-terrorist who had been freed after the war with the Cylons had restarted and Tory Foster, as the candidate for the Federal Party. That situation, with the two of them as the other candidates, was working in his favor, since they were sharing most of the same voters and, as a result, he was slightly in the lead. But then, Tom Zarek had decided to withdraw his candidacy and to support Foster instead. He'd actually become her campaign manager and, with his support, the polls had started showing a quick rise in Foster's public approval.

Their campaign was merciless. They didn't even have to show their own plan on how to win the war or much of anything else really. They only needed to poke at his lack of support for the military before the attack, depicting him as the man who'd been responsible for the Cylons' success in their initial strike, which was more than enough to give Foster the needed approval to threaten his presidency.

Nevertheless, he wasn't giving up, yet, no matter what the polls were showing. He, after all, still had an ace up his sleeve.

"Enter," Adar said as he heard knocking on his office door.

Nagala opened the door and quickly stepped inside. "Mister President."

"Admiral," the president returned the salute, while moving to take his seat behind his desk. "Please, take a seat."

Nagala sat in the chair on the other side of Adar's table. "Mister President, what was so urgent that it couldn't wait?"

"We will come to that, but first, I wanted to know if you heard anything from Rear Admiral Cain."

"Unfortunately, no, I haven't. The last we heard of Cain was when a raptor delivered the information about the inhabited planet she discovered."

"Um, yes, I read the report. A very intriguing discovery. Do you believe we could mine the system for Tylium?"

"It is my opinion at this point that it is too dangerous to do so, sir. With the war raging, and the distance involved between us and the system in question, it would simply be too risky."

"You do not think that having a habitable planet in the system could help? With the ability for our people to stay in the system and maybe even the ability of building a refinery there, wouldn't that allow us to make fewer trips back home?"

"True, Mister President, but we would still need to provide an adequate defensive force for both, our people staying in the system and for the cargo ships transporting the mined Tylium back to the Colonies, and we certainly don't have the assets to accomplish that."

"I don't need to remind you how our reserves of Tylium are steadily diminishing and a shortage of fuel is the last thing we need at the moment."

"I am well aware of that fact, Mister President, and if we had the necessary warships, I would be the first to propose the construction of a mining outpost in the system. But we simply don't have them," Nagala replied, knowing there was no way they can spare up to a couple of dozen warships to protect a newly built mining outpost hundreds of light years away. "On the other hand, there could be a solution to our shortage of combustibles, at least in part."

"Oh? How so?"

"A few days ago one of the leading scientists in the military division of Graystone Industries proposed a new type of power source," Nagala replied, noticing the interest it created in the president. "A fusion reactor."

"Fusion reactor? I'm not well versed in scientific matters, Admiral, but haven't we lost interest in that particular type of technology a very long time ago, due to some problems we couldn't solve."

"We did, Mister President, but the scientist in question, a certain Doctor Robert Desai, assures us he can make it work. He said that the only reason why we couldn't make a working fusion reactor was because we couldn't make a strong enough plasma containment bottle to keep the plasma from spilling outside of the reactor. But, with the notes we have received from Doctor Gaius Baltar, in regard to his work on the alien shield, Doctor Desai is certain he can come up with a forcefield that can be used as the reactor's containment bottle."

"Hmmm… it sounds like another scientist having great ideas, but ending up being very poor at delivering the goods when the time finally comes."

"I had the same concern when I first heard, Mister President. Frankly, a scientist coming up with anything useful, only weeks after having received Baltar's notes, didn't inspire much confidence in me. But, the scientist didn't simply come up with a theory. He is already well underway in making the full schematics for the reactor, and the other scientists agree that his designs are sound. Actually, they were also baffled that the Doctor has so quickly come up with such complex designs."

"So, you really believe something positive can come out of this?"

"I do, and the strangest part is that a fusion reactor isn't the only thing the scientist is planning to deliver. He said that what we received from the Expeditionary Fleet has opened many avenues that were previously closed to us. He said that he already had many designs almost ready, but was never able to finish them because of the missing knowledge we've suddenly gained through the discovery of this alien craft."

"What _other _designs?" the president asked, now very intrigued by all this.

"Well, he said that the new reactors would be able to supply most of our energy needs, both planet-wide and on larger ships. He said that it is impossible to make a fusion reactor small enough to place it inside cars or smaller spacecraft, but that he has a solution for that problem as well. As part of what we received from the Expeditionary Fleet, he is certain he can make some kind of high energy capacitors that, once charged, will be able to hold enough energy for such smaller craft to considerably diminish their reliance on Tylium, if not completely."

"That sounds almost impossible to believe. With these new inventions, our reliance on Tylium would almost completely vanish."

"Yes, it would, and that's not all. The scientist showed us a design for a plasma cannon as well. He says it's a natural extension of the same concept that could be used to contain plasma in a fusion reactor. Only this time it's used to create self-contained plasma that is then shot from a cannon."

"Are you saying that he is working on making us a viable energy weapon?" Adar asked, baffled.

"I am, Mister President. As I said, I was baffled by what the scientist was able to show us so soon, but he said he had worked on these designs for a very long time and that they only missed a single piece of technology, the tech we received from the Expeditionary Fleet."

"Huh, and I thought we got nothing of any use from them. What about making a shield for our ships?" Adar asked. Apparently, the scientist was on the roll, so, why not that too.

"He said that it is possible, in time, but more work is needed. He also said that, currently, our biggest problem is production. Apparently, we still need to build the tools… that will build the tools… that can then build the components he needs to make all this work. But, once our production line is upgraded, he'll be able to deliver the prototypes of these new inventions relatively fast."

Adar remained pensive. This was a lot to take in, and it could change everything in the war against the Cylons. Maybe it could even help them against the Thirteenth Colony he was certain were planning to attack them the moment their war with the Cylons was over. But all this was secondary to the real reason why he was feeling so happy right now. Doctor Robert Desai could become his poster boy for the progress his administration was making. The scientist could be the one who got him reelected. "I need to meet with this Doctor Robert Desai, as soon as possible."

Nagala narrowed his eyes. He should have known the president would find a way to exploit their newest genius for his own nefarious agenda. Of course, the president doesn't even care on how turning the man into a walking billboard for his campaign would influence his performance in delivering what he'd promised.

"Um, yes sir, but the doctor _is_ extremely busy and has a very limited amount of free time. That is, if he is to deliver what he promised on time," Nagala replied, thinking that maybe the president would take the not so subtle hint and understand that the Doctor is needed more elsewhere.

It didn't work.

"Understandable, Admiral. Nonetheless, I still need to meet with this man. He could be the next Gaius Baltar and the man who singlehandedly wins the war for us."

_Yes, and the reelections for you too! _Nagala thought, angrily. He was also of the opinion that saying that the man would singlehandedly win the war for them, was incredibly unfair for all the men and women who would afterwards have to use his new gadgets _in battle_, possibly by losing their lives in the process.

Nagala decided to say nothing and instead just gave a small nod. He didn't trust what would come out of his mouth if he did reply.

"Good! Well, these are all good news, but let's talk about the real reason why we are here. Or rather, the _reasons_, plural. First, let's finish our previous discussion. Why haven't we still heard from Cain?"

"I don't know," Nagala stated, flatly. After how their previous topic had ended, he wasn't about to indulge the president any longer.

The president waited, thinking the admiral would continue, but he soon realized he wasn't about to. "Care to elaborate? I know she should have been back several days ago."

"There could be many reasons. Your guess is as good as mine."

_Am I detecting some hostility in the man's voice? I wonder why? _The president thought. "Admiral, I need answers, and not guesses."

"And that is why I'm not guessing, _sir,_" Nagala replied, actually liking the way the president was slowly but surely turning red.

"Fine! Have it your way. Let's then talk about the other reason why I called you here," Adar replied, not liking the change in Nagala's tone he was now able to detect clearly. "The attack on Caprica needs to take place a few days earlier."

"Why?" Nagala spat back.

This was something Adar didn't think the Admiral would ask of him. He thought there was a good chance the admiral would disagree by stating that they weren't ready so soon, but never had crossed his mind that the admiral would ask him why. "The why is not important right now, it just needs to happen sooner than we planned."

"We are not ready, sir," Nagala replied. If the president can give stupid and pointless answers, he can too.

"We need to be, Admiral. We have no choice," Adar replied, immediately understanding he'd said the wrong thing.

"Why do we have no choice, sir?" Nagala asked back, barely able to contain himself from laughing. He didn't know that the president, or any person for that matter, could shift color so much. Maybe the president was a chameleon, for some unknown reason having decided to change his usual color into burning red.

"Admiral Nagala! Your questions are pointless. The attack needs to happen in exactly one week from now, and that's a direct order!"

Yup. He'd definitely gone too far. Still, it had been worth it. "With all due respect, sir, many of the warships that are scheduled to participate in the retaking of Caprica have green crews that need more training before we put them in front of a fleet of Cylon baseships. And every day they spend training, it will greatly increase their chances of survival."

"Then double their training time, I don't care. What I do care is for the attack to happen in exactly seven days from now. Is that understood?"

_Great! So, instead of being inexperienced, they will be tired-as-hell during the battle. Not exactly a solution_, Nagala thought. Still, he knew the president had given him a direct order, and there was no way he would be able to change the president's mind, no matter how many logical reasons for doing so he gave him. "Of course, sir. If that is all, I will go back to make the necessary changes, and speed up the fleet readiness.

"Yes, that is all, Admiral. You may go."

The conversation had finally ended, with Nagala quickly leaving his office. Adar was glad for it. His analysts had found out that he needed at least ten days with Caprica liberated for it to have the desired effect on the electorate. Any less than that, and people wouldn't have the time needed to change their minds and, consequently, his effort in freeing Caprica would have been all for nothing. He was starting to worry about Nagala though. The man was starting to behave strangely, asking silly questions that the admiral should very well know never to ask, as well as know that the president couldn't answer them. Of course, they both knew the reason for the planned liberation of Caprica and the admiral should know that they couldn't openly talk about it. But, for some reason, Nagala was angry with him today, even more than he usually displayed.

Still, the conversation with the admiral had for the most part ended on a positive note. A scientist was promising to deliver incredible technologies in the near future and he could use him for his reelection campaign. And that, combined with the liberation of Caprica, would greatly increase his chances of winning the elections.

Now, the only thing that troubled him was, where did Cain end up and why wasn't she back yet.

He hoped it was just a short delay for some silly reason.

* * *

Brian Fitzpatrick stepped through the gate inside the Terran Headquarter on Terrania, the island the Asgard had built for them almost five years ago. It was still strange for Brian to see the clearly Asgard design of _their_ HQ, the way the diminutive race liked to make large corridors and rooms mostly in silver metallic colors with just a touch of, for some unknown reason, purple. The curving beams at the intersections and corridor's ends were also a very interesting detail, actually making everything look more appealing. He then understood that the Asgard really liked curved and smooth surfaces, as their own ships could testify to that. All considered, he had the impression of stepping onto a completely alien world every time he came home, which was, in a way, a very weird sensation.

Brian noticed Walter briskly walking towards him, probably to greet him. This was also strange. Why was Walter, Jack's personal assistant and the go-to guy for everything the man did and didn't need, coming to greet him?

"Agent Fitzpatrick," Walter said, the moment he'd reached him. "If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you to the conference room where councilors Gahlen, O'Neill and Jackson are waiting for you."

"I was supposed to meet with Klaus alone. Is there a specific reason for Jack and Daniel to be there too?"

"I'm not privy to that information, agent Fitzpatrick. All I know is that I was instructed to bring you in the conference room the moment you arrived," Walter replied. "If you would please follow me, I think said council members have other obligations later today, so I believe that time is short."

"Of course," Brian replied, beginning to follow an already moving Walter. Apparently, he was going to find out why the other two council members were there only when he arrived. He had a suspicion on why Klaus wouldn't be alone, but he couldn't be certain. The news of what had happened to Peter, the agent previously having been infiltrated on the Galactica, had spread fast, and he knew there would be questions. Still, he didn't think there would be three council members waiting for him to deliver his report.

Brian followed Walter through the various corridors in complete silence, all the way to the conference room. He watched Walter open the door, quickly step inside in order to inform the people in the room that he was here, and then come back out.

"They are ready to receive you, agent Fitzpatrick," Walter said, motioning for Brian to step inside the conference room.

Brian stepped inside.

"Brian, come sit," Klaus Gahlen said. "Good you were able to come so soon."

"Boss," Brian replied, nodding. He then proceeded to properly greet the other council members before taking a seat.

Klaus smiled. "Don't worry, Brian, you're not in trouble."

Klaus must have noticed him being nervous. "Good to hear, Boss. I was worried there for a minute."

"So. We hear Peter had some interesting times recently," Klaus said. "Is he alright?"

"He's tough, Boss, and he says the nanites helped a lot. Although, the nanites were also responsible for the Colonials and consequently the Cylons to believe he's not a human, so…" Brian explained.

"Yes, that was unfortunate, but there was no way for us to know that nanites could cause their blood test to give a false positive when we placed our operatives among them. There wasn't even a test then," Klaus added.

"And maybe it wasn't unfortunate at all," Jack added. "I mean, yes, if what in your preliminary report you sent us about what the CID agents did to Peter is true, then it was very unfortunate for Peter. But, for us, the fact that we weren't discovered by the Colonials is actually a positive thing. For us, the Colonials thinking he's a Cylon is much better than the alternative."

"Yes, even Peter agrees that their test showing a false positive was a fortune in disguise. Although, he did mention he had to restrain himself from breaking his bonds and assaulting the CID agents," Brian added.

"That's understandable," Jack added, but then his mood changed quickly, "Damn! Those CID agents remind me of the NID, with the only difference being that they actually have their president's support. Unscrupulous and only goal oriented. I wouldn't be surprised if their mission soon becomes the procurement of alien technology by _any_ means necessary."

"It is possible, but I don't think that's the worst of it. The CID is a relatively new agency that was formed by President Adar only a few years ago. They call themselves the Colonial Intelligence Division, but from what I was able to gather so far, they look more as the president's personal police than an intelligence agency. And I think the reason why their president formed the CID is the growing schism between him and the Admiralty. Their president has actually given the CID agents stationed on board a warship the right to take control of the vessel if needed. This is definitely a form of control over their military," Brian explained.

"From what I read from the documents we were able to obtain, the Admiralty had sent a stealth craft across the Red Line, knowing exactly how dangerous that could be during their armistice. They never signed a peace treaty with the Cylons and had no contacts with them whatsoever ever since," Daniel added, not liking it.

"You know, there is a chance the Admiralty did it intentionally, wanting to get caught," Klaus added.

"How do you mean, intentionally?" Daniel asked.

"Think about it. The Admiralty was certain the war with the Cylons would have eventually restarted, and their president was systematically diminishing their budget. They could have thought that facing the Cylons two years ago was better than facing them later after Adar screwed them even more, which they ended up getting anyway. The Cylons waited and planned for the next two years after they'd crossed the Red Line, with Adar cutting their budget two more times," Klaus explained.

"And if we hadn't intervened, the Cylons would have succeeded," Jack added. "The Cylons had a good plan. Do we even know how they were able to infiltrate the Colonials? I mean, somehow they were able to plant that backdoor to allow their virus to infiltrate their ships' systems."

"Not sure. They must have infiltrated their Department of Defense and its mainframe to accomplish that. So far, we have been unable to find any known Cylon model working in their DOD," Klaus added. "Even now that Peter knows how seven of their twelve models look like, we still haven't found a connection."

"What is Peter's impression of the Cylons?" Daniel asked, the question directed at Brian.

"He said they looked as pretty decent, except for one, who they call _One_, that he believes is a little off. And he's certain the other Cylons know he's a little off too. Except for him, the others only wanted Peter to tell them how to contact us, since they think we are some kind of offshoot of the Thirteenth Colony who are all Cylons, just like they are," Brian answered.

"I don't know if we should perhaps meet with them," Daniel said.

"Too soon, Daniel. We know too little about them to initiate contact, and we can't even use the fact that they think we are Cylons to our advantage because that can change momentarily and without warning," Jack retorted.

"I know Jack, but I'm a little worried about this whole situation," Daniel began explaining, slightly frustrated. "We can't devote any more assets because we have other problems to worry about, we can't initiate contact with the Cylons because it is too soon and we can't even tell the Colonials of the real state of the galaxy. Instead, I was forced to tell them half-truths on why we are not getting more involved, like the fact that there are many human civilizations in the galaxy or that there are other nonhuman races wondering around. I don't know, Jack. I feel we should be doing more here."

"Daniel, I can't divert a considerable number of ships to stop the Colonial-Cylon war when there's a chance the Ori, Aschen or Wraith could use the opportunity and target some of our allies. I don't know, maybe after Liam goes to the Ori galaxy and does his thing, we will be more able to deal with the Colonials. Although, I think that even then the Aschen and Wraith should take priority.

"Second, even if we divert the needed ships, the same point still remains. What exactly do we do with them? You are the one who told me that the Colonials would immediately ask us to help them destroy the Cylons, and you clearly pointed out how intransigent they were on that point. Plus, the fact that they are hundred and ten percent certain we are the Thirteenth Colony, even though you repeatedly told their vice president that we aren't, doesn't play well in my mind. And last, your opinion that they are practically religious fanatics that would think all of us as heretics for having so many religions on our planet, especially religions with one god, well, the situation is pretty clear… I think.

"And we can predict the Cylons are as bent on killing the Colonials, if not all the humans in the galaxy, as the Colonials are on killing them. Therefore, I don't see us, even with enough assets, able to broker a lasting peace between those two. And, as I said earlier, we really don't have the ships to protect the Colonies and go around searching for the Cylons and their jumping ships. As far as we know, they don't even have a central location, a planet where we can find them," Jack explained.

"I agree with most of what you said, except for the religious part," Klaus interjected before Daniel could answer. "It is true that they have only one mainstream religion on their planet and that that could indicate they haven't developed the same tolerance towards different religious beliefs. And I'm also certain there are religious freaks who would see us as nothing else than heretics - there always are such individuals and I know it's unavoidable - but, in the end, I don't think that the question of religions would influence any talks between us and them. I think that most of their people would come to grasp that we do not believe in their gods, and I'm certain the people in their government would put that aside too, for their own sake."

"I don't know, Klaus," Daniel replied. "From what I've picked up from Roslin, she wasn't too happy when I explained to her what's like on Earth. They also had some trouble with a rising religion fifty years ago. The members eventually turned into terrorists, bombing trains and performing other terroristic acts. I think that could make them biased against any similar religion on Earth, if not against all of them. From what Roslin told me, they are more open to atheism than to other religions. And if our information is correct about the Cylons, they as well are monotheistic, which could play a part in how the Colonials see similar religions."

"I agree the situation is not ideal, but I think this wouldn't preclude the possibility of opening a sound dialog with them. From what you told us from your conversation with their vice president, she didn't like anything you said to her, so she could have been confrontational for other reasons. I'm more worried about them not being able to come to grips with the rest. That we are not their fabled Thirteenth Colony, that human life didn't begin on Kobol and that there are thousands of human and other races in this galaxy alone. _That _is what goes against some of their fundamental beliefs and what worries me the most." Klaus paused for a moment, while collecting his thoughts. "But all this is pointless at the moment, since we still can't divert the necessary resources their way. For now, we can only continue monitoring the situation."

"I agree," Jack said. "They are still far from Earth, which means they are no threat to us at the moment, even if they knew where Earth is… which they don't. Brian, what does the loss of one of your operatives on the Galactica entails exactly?"

"I still have Malcolm on board, and there's a chance of transferring another agent who was placed on the Columbia, but I'm not sure yet. I don't want to push it and by doing so making the Colonials suspicious. For now, Malcolm will have to suffice," Brian answered. "There is another problem though."

"What problem?" Klaus asked.

"As you know, each operative has a Walkman that in reality is a communication device, as well as a much more powerful locator beacon than the subcutaneous ones all agents have. Malcolm went to retrieve it from Peter's room, but it wasn't there anymore. The CID agents must have taken it when they arrested Peter."

"Aren't all devices tamperproof?" Jack asked.

"They are, Jack," Klaus answered. "They shouldn't be able to get anything out of it, even if they give it to somebody who knows what he's doing, like their scientist-genius Gaius Baltar. And the chances are, even if by chance they decide to dismantle it, that one of their agents will be the one doing it. In that case the components we don't want them to take a close look at will simply melt."

"So, what's the problem then?" Jack was puzzled.

"The chances are minimal, but even burned components could point out to the CID agents that we are involved. At the very least, they'll know that Peter's Walkman isn't only a Walkman. If they can or can't understand that the melted components are not Cylon technology, I'm not sure. But, in any case, they will start looking for similar devices to see if there are more spies like Peter on board."

"So, Malcolm is in danger then," Jack said, understanding the problem.

"Exactly," Brian said. "I've already instructed Malcolm and the other agents to hide them somewhere so they wouldn't find them in their possession, but that means that we are now limited in our ability to make contact with him since he doesn't have it with him or in his room anymore."

"That's slightly debilitating, but there's nothing we can do about it right now," Jack said before taking a glance at his watch. "And I have to go meet with Liam now."

"What does Liam think about all of this?" Klaus asked, curious.

"He thinks we are meddling into things we shouldn't, while we have other more important things to worry about," Jack replied.

"Really? So, he thinks we should leave them be?" Klaus said.

"More or less, yes. Although, his point was more in line with us sticking our collective noses where they don't belong, and something about us not being able to be everywhere all the time. If we meddle with the Colonials, then we should meddle with the Optricans and their problem with the Bedrosians, with the Quirilians since nobody likes where they are headed with their increased militarization, with the Genii and their hostilities against the People of Riva and the others in their little alliance and probably many other similar things. He simply said that we can't possibly think we can control everything, so we shouldn't even try."

"But what about containing the Cylon threat? He must believe they can eventually become dangerous?" Klaus said.

"He said the Cylons had been here for half a century already, and that they haven't become too dangerous in that long, which to him suggests that we should focus our effort on other things. He thinks they will be there in the same way they are now five years from now, or ten, or twenty. Without some massive external influence, he said that races do not progress that fast, which is true. Look at the Colonials and for how long they haven't progressed by much."

"I don't know about that. I'm not sure we should leave machines roam their corner of the galaxy so freely."

"I share your worries and that's exactly why I want the situation monitored, even though I'm also of the opinion that the Cylons are not, _even closely_, as dangerous as the replicators ever were. They don't have their ability to absorb and understand others' technologies the same way the replicators were able to. Still, no matter what Liam thinks, I think we have enough assets to at least keep an eye on things so that, if something changes drastically, we can still react before it is too late."

"I agree," Klaus said, before turning to Brian. "Brian, you've placed a tracking beacon on one of the Cylons baseships, is that correct?"

"Yes, we've been monitoring the ship's location ever since."

"Good-good, I'll dispatch a stealth corvette to you. I want the corvette to stay with the baseship at all times, and if they meet with another ship, to place a tracking beacon on that ship as well. If that happens, I'll try to find more stealth corvettes so we can shadow even more Cylon ships. I'm very curious where their resurrection process leads them to. They need to have a hub of sorts where they get revived."

"Will do, Boss."

Klaus glanced around the room at the others present there. "Well, I think we are mostly done here. Brian and I can finish with the details in my office."

Not having anything to add, everybody nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Jack was already moving out of the room and on his way to meet with Liam in the Andromeda galaxy. Soon, Liam would go to the Ori galaxy, and he would remain there for an unknown amount of time, so Jack wanted to discuss a few things with him before he disappeared.

* * *

Adama entered the conference room, finding Vice President Roslin, agent Sylus, Rear Admiral Cain and genius extraordinaire Gaius Baltar already inside and seated around the large central table. He immediately took his seat on the nearest chair available, next to the vice president. "Good morning and thank you for coming."

One by one, all in the room greeted him back.

"I know we are all busy, so let's get to business right away," Adama said before continuing. "Admiral Cain, how are your repairs proceeding?"

"Less than optimal, Admiral. If we weren't forced to make so many jumps, the repairs on the external hull would go much faster. I don't even understand the need for pushing the fleet to make so many long jumps so quickly," Cain replied, mostly annoyed.

"As I informed you already, Doctor Baltar is stress testing the systems to see how our new system for calculating jump coordinates works and to see if there is room for improvement, as well as to see how much punishment our jump drives can take. Two more jumps and we will make a longer pause to check all jump drives in the fleet. So, when that happens, you will have a few days without interruption to work on your ship's repairs," Adama explained before turning to Baltar. "Doctor, what can you tell us right now. How is the Fleet performing?"

"I haven't noticed any problems thus far, Admiral. All ships have reported their jump drives are working at one hundred percent. The last two jumps will be the longest, forty-seven and fifty light years respectively, but even if not all ships are capable of jumping such long distances, forty-five light years is more than we could have hoped," Baltar answered.

"But you're not predicting there will be any problems in the last two jumps, is that correct?"

"Well, a few ships are already showing their reactors are being strained in order to charge their jump drive's capacitors, which means we are slowly reaching the limits of a few civilian ships in the Fleet. I would also suggest that, even in the eventuality that all ships are capable of jumping such distances, we afterwards proceed by making slightly smaller jumps, maybe forty or forty-five light years at the most."

"Why, Doctor?"

"That is because I have some reservations in regard to pushing the jump drives above their usual jump distance, the one they were initially constructed to make. No jump drive has ever been built with jumping capability greater than ten light years. Essentially, I'm worried about the long-term stress on the ships' jump drives, even if they can theoretically make them."

Adama thought about what Baltar had said. He wanted the ships to jump as far as they possibly could, but he was even less willing to risk stranding some of their ships due to a burned out jump drive. "Very well, Doctor, you're the expert here and therefore I will listen to your recommendation. After we conclude with the scheduled tests and we thoroughly check all ships to see if they are all at one hundred percent readiness, we will proceed with jumps of forty, or less, light years at a time.

"Now, Admiral Cain, what is this I'm hearing about you having found an inhabited planet?"

"We found it at the Rendezvous Point Alpha where we should initially have met. We didn't spend much time there, since we had to leave almost immediately if we wanted to reach our second rendezvous point before the Expeditionary Fleet jumped away. What we did find on the planet was a small population with maybe half a dozen towns and a few surrounding villages. We decided to investigate the biggest town on the planet and, I must say, what we learned from those people is very strange," Cain said, noticing Adama's nod to continue. "If they are to be believed, they were slaves a few hundred years ago, of someone they called Lord Ba'al. To them, he is some kind of deity with supernatural powers that lives in a flying pyramid."

"Flying pyramid?" Adama asked, not sure if he understood correctly.

"Yes, Admiral, the inhabitants said their ancestors had witnessed their God descend on their planet with a flying pyramid many times. Or, if not with a flying pyramid, then he came through the Ring of the Gods or, as they call it, Chappa'ai."

"Yes, I understand the inhabitants gave you this Chappi'a, or whatever its name is, willingly. What do you make of it?"

"Doctor Baltar, maybe you should answer to this particular question," Cain added.

"Yes, of course. Admiral Adama, the lab on board the Pegasus performed a metallurgical analysis of the device and the results were both stunning and puzzling. The device is made of an element we have never before found in nature and the strength of the material is unbelievable. Even with a plasma torch, we weren't able to make a scratch on it, much less open it. After having attempted several methods, some engineers even started talking about how the device must be indestructible, which I'm sure it isn't. If that were true, then nobody would have been able to make it in the first place. The truth is, we just don't have the tools to open it, but somebody out there does. It also shows some other remarkable properties. For instance, the material is superconductive in nature and it dissipates heat almost instantly after heat is applied."

"I understand you're fascinated by this thing, Doctor, but now I'm more curious about something else. Why did you call it a _device?_"

"Ah, yes, I called it a device because I believe it is. I think the ring is technological in nature, and not just an old archaeological finding. The device has an internal ring with thirty nine symbols that, quite frankly, I don't know what they represent, but the interesting part is that I believe this internal ring can be moved, or more precise would be to say that it can be _turned_."

"You turned it?"

"No, unfortunately it seems the internal ring is for some reason locked into place, but it is clearly visible that it is meant to be turned. For what reason, I really don't want to speculate, Admiral."

"And only because of this, you believe the ring has some specific function?"

"That, and the other device the Pegasus' crew found with it. Unfortunately, it seems the inhabitants on the planet tried to destroy it because it has sustained some damage. But once we opened it, we found many crystals of different sizes and colors inside, very similar to the ones we found inside the alien craft we've recovered. And since the device has the same symbols as the ring on its top, almost as if they were buttons to be pushed, I believe the two of them must be connected somehow. It is only a theory of mine, but to me it seems as if the other device serves to input the symbols for the ring to turn."

"This is all fascinating, and very speculative, Doctor, but the fact that the other device contains similar crystals as the ones the alien craft does, could this suggest that the ring and the craft were made by the same people?" Adama said, immediately noticing Baltar's reluctance at answering. "What is it, Doctor?"

"There is a problem with that theory, Admiral. Except for the metallurgical analysis, we also performed other tests, and one of them was to see how old the ring is. There's a chance the test is wrong, but, if it isn't, then the ring is millions of years old, Admiral."

Adama blinked once, and then blinked again. Did he just hear Baltar say 'millions of years old'? The Colonies were two thousand years old, the Thirteenth Colony left Kobol first, but again less than four thousand years ago, and from what little knowledge of Kobol remains, it still points to a civilization living there for thousands of years, but never millions. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but this doesn't make any sense. Millions of years?"

"I agree, Admiral, and that is the only reason why I said that the test could be wrong. If the test gave us hundreds or even thousands of years as its result, I wouldn't question the validity of the test, which makes it illogical for me to do so when the test gives a result I don't like or understand. And yet, even though the same test has given correct results in countless experiments without giving me any reason to doubt it, I now doubt its result because in my mind it is impossible for the ring to be more than a million years old. The only logical thing to do would be to believe the test is correct, since I have no prior evidence of when the test was wrong."

"You've lost me there, Doctor. If I understood you correctly, your opinion is that the Ring _is_ millions of years old."

"It is only logical to believe so, yes."

Adama remained pensive. This was completely ridiculous, and yet, if it was true, the claim the Terrans had made that they weren't originally from Kobol would suddenly gain in validity. Were the Terrans the builders of the ring? Are they a human race that's millions of years old? Are they the ones who had enslaved the people on the planet by pretending to be deities? And if so, what else did they get wrong about them?

Adama had the feeling that they'd stumbled upon something much bigger than they thought when they had first embarked on this mission to find the fabled Lost Tribe. The Lost Tribe, why did they venture into the unknown in search for the promised land, Earth? And where did they hear the name Earth as the synonym for the promised land. Did the Gods tell them the name of the planet?

Adama understood that it had been quite some time since he'd last spoken. He glanced at Roslin and saw the same doubts on her face. Were they wrong in assuming the Terrans and the Thirteenth Colony were the same? He had doubts even before, unable to understand why they would concoct such a meaningless lie, one that was almost impossible to believe. But, if they hadn't lied, how could two human races have started on two separate worlds? _Bah!_ _Stupid brain!_

"Is there anything else you can tell us about the ring, Doctor?" Adama asked. He simply needed to stop thinking and get some work done instead.

"No, that is all we were able to find out," Baltar quickly replied. He even less wanted to discuss the matter further when there were so many pieces of information missing.

Adama turned to face the man in the room he liked the least. "Mister Sylus, how is your investigation going?"

Sylus was depressed. He'd lost the prisoner and two of his agents, and the investigation was going exactly nowhere. "Unfortunately, without the prisoner, the investigation is going nowhere. The only thing we have to work with is a device we found in his quarters that was disguised as an ordinary Walkman."

"Yes, and if you didn't try to open it with a hammer, maybe I could have been able to get something useful out of it," Baltar retorted, pissed at the agent.

"I didn't open it with a hammer!" Sylus retorted back, angrily. The good doctor was a real pain in the ass sometimes.

"What are you talking about, Doctor?" Adama asked.

"The device, the one agent Sylus is talking about, _was_ probably a very sophisticated communication device. And I'm saying _was_ because, instead of bringing it to me to be examined by an expert, he forced it open and consequently a self-destruct mechanism kicked in and fried it completely. And only then did he bring what was left to me, _ordering _me to salvage it. As if there was a way to simply reverse what happened to it." Baltar was pissed, both, because he had lost the opportunity to work on some awesome new technology and because Sylus was under the misguided impression that he was there to jump every time Sylus wanted something from him.

"Is that true, Mister Sylus?" Adama was asking more to piss the man off than anything else.

And Sylus knew what Adama was doing, so he decided not to engage in a dispute about his conduct. "What's done is done."

Sylus didn't bite, and Adama had really wanted the opportunity to put the man down. "All right, so, you think this was a communication device the spy used to communicate with others. Inside the fleet or outside of it?"

"I don't believe they would go to such length in concealing a communication device and with a self-destruct mechanism if the device was to only communicate with somebody else inside the fleet. They clearly spent a lot of effort in making sure that, if found, the device wouldn't give us any insight into their technology."

"Yes, that's what I thought as well, but this then also begs another question, since I was under the impression that the Cylons don't have FTL communication technology. Why are the Cylons _searching _for us when they had a spy that could have communicated with them whenever they wanted? They could have easily received our position through the spy, and they could have been upon us in an instant. Why didn't they?" Adama asked. The questions were quickly piling up on all fronts, and he wanted some answers.

"From the device we found on the bridge, we know that they are capable of building at the very least an FTL locator beacon, which is, granted, far from a working FTL communication device, but still a solid indicator they are at least working on the technology. And to answer your question, I have two theories. One is that their spy didn't know the exact coordinates of the fleet, which is plausible since only people on the bridge know them at all times and that's the reason why they needed the other device attached to the DRADIS. Or, as the second option, us having a shield scared them and they've been reluctant to attack us."

"I agree with your first theory as to being possible, but not the second. We didn't always have a shield to give us a tactical advantage and they stopped attacking us the moment we removed the device on the bridge, and that shows us when they've lost the ability to track our position. Still, their ability to communicate at such great distances is of great concern to me."

"It is of great concern for me as well, and that is the reason why I would like for you to allow an extensive search of all the ships."

"Search? Search for what?"

"If the Cylon spy wasn't working alone, there could be other spies with the same device in their possession. If we find such device, we could gain two things. One, we find another Cylon spy we can interrogate, and two, Doctor Baltar would get the chance to open another of these devices without triggering the self-destruct."

"Yes, I see the possible benefits, but I also see the problems," Adama said. "The biggest is that I don't know if you are realizing how big this search would have to be, or how many people we would need to search the entire fleet. And another problem I'm seeing is that I believe that whoever has such an incriminating device with him, if there are more such spies, would probably have destroyed it or at least hidden it, the same moment he found out that one of theirs was caught. Still, I'll order a search of all military vessels first, but I'm not ready to order a search of a hundred civilian ships. Is this agreeable with you, Mister Sylus?"

"It is, Admiral," Sylus readily replied. There was no point in objecting. By now, he knew when the admiral had made up his mind.

"Good. Then I think we have nothing more to…"

"I apologize, Admiral, but there is," Cain said, interrupting the Admiral. "I would like to know where we are going. I've noticed a slight change in course from where we believe Kobol is located. Why?"

"We will search for Kobol on our current path, even though our course is slightly off. If we find it, fine, but we are currently traveling toward a location where the alien craft sent its last signal. It was probably a distress call, so it is conceivable to believe that the pilot sent that message back to his home planet, which means, possibly to Earth."

"And where has this signal been sent?"

"To a location 12.000 light-years from the craft's last position."

"Admiral, that means that, even with the improvements to our jumping ability, it will take us up to 300 hundred jumps. Not only will this be incredibly strenuous for our jump drives, but if we are wrong on what's there, we could be stranded so far away from home that we could be unable to return. I don't believe many ships have their jump drives capable of jumping for six hundred times, 40 light years at a time without burning out and I don't see any shipyards in the vicinity to replace them if that happens."

"It is true that the voyage will be a long and dangerous one, but this is the best lead we have. Actually, this is the only lead we have, since I don't believe that we would find the location of Earth on Kobol, even if we find Kobol. From what we know, the planet suffered a massive cataclysm more than two thousand years ago and I don't think much is left standing after so long. The chances of finding some written material on Kobol, pointing us in the right direction, are almost nonexistent."

Unknown to the others in the room, Gaius suddenly felt they weren't alone. He turned and noticed that another seat was now filled. The imaginary Six also looked incredibly thoughtful for some reason, and there was maybe even a hint of… irritation in her expression. "What are you doing here?"

"Baltar, I am always here, even when you don't see me. Your question is pointless," Six replied.

Baltar was now certain there was something aggravating her, which was strange since she'd always seemed so calm and composed, even when the situation didn't warrant it. Then, he remembered seeing her in a similar mood once before, when they were on the bridge and she had shown him the Cylon device on top of the DRADIS. She was then looking at a marine near the door, with what could only be described as an annoyed look. For some reason, she didn't like seeing him there. "What's wrong? This is the second time you see something you don't like."

"There are many possible paths that can be taken, almost an endless number of them. The path you're taking now will forever steer you away from the future you were predestined to reach. The cycle will be broken forever."

"Um… okay. Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"It is… a different thing."

"I literally live for cryptic answers like this one."

"No need for sarcasm, Gaius, I am only trying to guide you. If you don't want my help, you only need to say it and I will be gone."

"No-no, guiding is fine. But you must admit that your answer doesn't explain much."

"That has more to do with your question than because I like to be cryptic. As you select a certain path, other paths become closed to you, while new ones present itself. You are still far from your destination to know if it will be, as you put it, good or bad, with any certainty. It just won't be the one you were predestined to reach."

"That I did understand… I think."

"Well, they do say you're a genius, Gaius."

"That, they do," Gaius said, with a content grin.

"And an egomaniac too,_ apparently_," Six replied.

Gaius abruptly stopped grinning. "Let's not talk about me anymore, shall we?"

"Gaius Baltar doesn't want to talk about himself. Something must have gone terribly wrong with the universe."

"I got the point!" Baltar shouted, quickly understanding that he said it aloud for everybody to hear, and Six wasn't even there anymore.

"You got the point of what, Doctor?" Adama asked.

"Um, sorry, Admiral, please continue," Gaius replied, awkwardly.

"Continue with what? I just told everyone we are done for today," Adama said. Did the doctor just suffer a stroke?

"Oh, if that is the case, I have work to do in my lab," Baltar replied, hurriedly getting up and storming out of the room. It was interesting to notice that Six would never come when he was alone.

Was she doing it on purpose? Who was the _imaginary _Six, really? And how does she know so much about what their future should or shouldn't be?

Baltar didn't know the answer to any of these questions and he was certain _she_ wasn't going to tell him.

* * *

_**Please leave a review. They're always appreciated.**_


	12. Survival

**Author's note: **Having again some trouble with the posting of the other story (this time I'm not sure which of the two chapters that I'm currently writing I want to post first), I decided to post the next chapter of this story.

Since the last chapter was a sort of reminder of where the various sides in the story stand, this one is completely action oriented. I'm also of the opinion that it came out as a pretty decent chapter, but you'll have to be the judge of that. Believe it or not, I liked reading it myself after having wrote it. _Weird!_

**Watcher:** Well, the question of humans being an artificial race since the Ancients created them can turn into a possibly very long and tedious philosophical discussion. Humans were created by others in the SG universe, but the original template of the Ancients was used to do it. In a similar way, if a person is cloned and the two are identical in any way, can for something like that be said that one is the real deal while the other is an artificial life-form? After all, if nobody tells you who's who, you can't distinguish them.

Keep in mind that the Asgard cloning problem has been solved a long time ago, at least in my AU.

**Paul:** Too soon. Monitoring doesn't mean immediately knowing everything that happens in the colonies, and the scientist, up until recently, was a simple man who worked in a private company like thousand of others. Their president only recently found out, so it would take some time for Terran agents to catch up.

_**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll enjoy this action-oriented chapter.**_

* * *

"Status."

"Nothing on DRADIS, sir," Gaeta replied.

Adama was satisfied, for once. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. The testing of the jump drive and the new system for calculating jump coordinates was working perfectly, which was allowing them to make conservative jumps of forty light years at a time, without excessive strain on the ship. The ships in the fleet were all working, with very few reported maintenance issues, which was, admittedly, very strange, but he really wasn't about to complain. Even the taciturn behavior of the current lead troublemaker, namely Admiral Cain, was a strange fact that, again, he wasn't about to question on why that was. He'd been certain that, the moment she'd made the needed repairs to her two remaining ships, she would have started complaining and nagging to revise the vice president's decision to keep the shield prototype on the Galactica, but that for some reason hadn't happened and he didn't know why.

It was an unexpected gift, one that had allowed him to focus more on other matters, like the Fleet's overall efficiency and combat readiness, as well as to try to complete his mission, which was to find the Thirteenth Colony, the Terrans or whoever those people really were. At this point, he didn't even care anymore if they were the Lost Tribe or if they even shared anything with the Colonies. The only thing he wanted now was to find them and be done with it, but, apparently, finding them wasn't going to be that easy.

The Expeditionary Fleet wasn't going towards where they believed Kobol was, not anymore. Instead, they had slightly veered off course in order to go straight for the 12.000 light years distant and utterly unknown place where the strange alien craft they'd found had sent its last dying distress signal. However, simply forgetting about Kobol wasn't an option either, not while there were still a chance of finding it. Because of it, Adama had instructed the Fleet to send raptors each time they completed a jump in order to canvas the nearby area, mostly by sending raptors towards the region where they believed Kobol was. The calculations for a forty light years jump took almost ten hours to calculate anyway, thus there was no good reason for keeping the raptors on board to do nothing, like the rest of the fleet had to do while waiting the calculations to be completed. The pilots had also been happy about it, since giving them the task to search the area had also given them some away time from the mundane life aboard the Galactica.

The only problem now was that, for some reason that Adama couldn't fathom why it had to be this way, something always had to go wrong.

"The last raptor should have been back by now," Adama stated. All raptors that had been sent had reported even before the deadline had expired, except for one.

"Yes, sir, the last remaining raptor out is twenty minutes late," Gaeta replied.

"Show me on the map its scouting route," Adama said.

"Don't worry, Bill. You'll see that they have just lost track of time," Saul said, while standing beside his CO. He was trying to lessen his worry, but he knew it was the CO's job to do just that. When the bird was back and once again safely tucked in the hangar, only then Bill would calm down.

"Scouting route is on the map, sir," Gaeta replied.

Adama looked at the map, thinking.

_Point One: The missing raptor's route is the longest of all those that were sent, which means that it shouldn't be that strange if this particular raptor is last to come back. _

_Point two: The fact that this raptor had the longest distance to cover, should have made the pilot more careful, hence more inclined to turn back if he wasn't certain he can make it in time._

_Point three: This raptor is the only one who has been tasked to check a system believed to contain a habitable planet, which a week ago wouldn't have meant much if Cain didn't already find another planet with human life on it. If this is the case here as well, there's a good chance the raptor has stayed longer in order to check the discovery more thoroughly._

_Point four: A habitable system could have attracted other visitors, some possibly unfriendly towards us. And I'm starting to suspect that the galaxy isn't as devoid of life as we all believed it to be._

Two points were telling him that the raptor was simply late, while the other two points were suggesting that the raptor was late because of a more serious reason. A fifty-fifty chance, combined with Adama's firm belief that, when the lives of his people were at stake, he should definitely play it more on the safe side, and that meant there was only one course of action to take.

"Mr. Gaeta, please calculate the jump coordinates for the system where the raptor went. Dee, please inform Admiral Cain that her ships, as well as the Galactica, will make a slight detour and that she should prepare them to jump. We will send her the coordinates for the jump when we have them. Also, give me the vice president on the line."

"Bill, don't you think you're being a little premature?" Saul asked. It was the job of the XO to question the CO's decisions, but, in the end, if Adama had already made up his mind, there was little anyone could do to change his decision.

"The calculations will take fifteen minutes, which means the raptor still has that much time to show up and for the crew to get an earful for being late. But if the bird is not back by then, I can guarantee you that something more serious happened to them. And I'm not about to wait here for that long before giving the order to make the calculations for the jump."

"All right, Bill, I was just asking."

"Sir, I have the vice president on the line," Dee said.

"Put her on speakers."

"_Admiral Adama, what is so urgent?"_ Roslin's voice was heard over the speakers.

"Madam Vice President, one of our raptors hasn't reported back yet and if it doesn't return in the next ten minutes, I'm officially declaring them MIA and I'm jumping the Galactica and Cain's ships to the system where it went."

There was a long moment of silence before the vice president replied. _"You believe it to be wise to split the Fleet? Wouldn't it be better to keep all ships together?"_

"Madam Vice President, we don't know the reason why the raptor isn't back, which means we could be jumping into a Cylon ambush for all we know and I'm not risking the civilian ships on a blind rescue mission," Adama answered. He also wasn't about to send a single ship or a single raptor to check it out. If there were enemy forces there, sending a single ship could mean losing another one. "The Columbia and the two gunships will remain with the Civilian Fleet. The captain of the Columbia will be in charge and he knows what to do if trouble comes your way."

Again, there was a long pause before the answer came. _"I understand, Admiral. I hope we see each other soon."_

"We will be back in no time, Madam Vice President. The moment we find out what happened to the missing raptor, we are jumping back. Adama out."

As the connection ended, Adama remained in silence for the next seven minutes, the remaining time it took to finish the needed calculations. He had spent them in silence, while constantly hoping that the raptor would show up and that there would be no need for a rescue mission.

But, that hadn't happened, and the three warships jumped into the unknown, in search for their missing raptor.

* * *

"Jump complete, sir, scanning system now," Gaeta replied, the moment they reverted into normal space. "No ships are being detected, sir."

Apparently, there weren't any ships wondering the system, their raptor included. So, the question was - where was their missing bird? "Anything else of any interest, Mr. Gaeta?"

"There is a planet that appears to be habitable, barely. It is almost 12 light minutes from the system's primary, which means it should be pretty cold on it, but the spectral analysis still shows there is a breathable atmosphere present on the planet."

"Distance?"

"1.2 million kilometers to nearest Lagrange Point between the planet and the moon, sir. It will take us thirty minutes to reach it if we go for a zero relative velocity with the planet."

"Make it so, Mr. Gaeta."

The three colonial warships began their steady acceleration at full burn towards the nearest Lagrange Point. The speed steadily increased for the first fifteen minutes before the ships had to begin their deceleration if they wanted to be at a full stop relative to the planet when they reached their intended destination. While jumping light years at a time took a blink of an eye, traveling at sublight speed took much longer and for crossing a much shorter distance, even when traveling between points in the same star system.

After thirty minutes, the ships were nearing their destination. It was then that the alarm started blaring.

"Contact!" Gaeta shouted.

"What do we have, Mr. Gaeta," Adama asked.

"A ship, sir. It just became visible."

"Visible?"

"It must have been on the other side of the planet, sir."

"What else, Mr. Gaeta?" Adama was starting to feel anxious. If there were Cylons here, he could already imagine what had happened to their raptor. The only positive side that he could think of right now was that Gaeta had said ship, which meant there was only one and even if it was a baseship, the Galactica with its prototype shield and while accompanied by the two Cain's ships were more than enough to shred it in short order.

"The ship is changing course! They must have detected our…" Gaeta stopped.

"What is it, Mr. Gaeta?" Gaeta expression of utter cluelessness wasn't inspiring much confidence. Were there more ship coming out from the other side of the planet?

"That's… that's not possible."

"Mr. Gaeta, you need to talk to me!"

Gaeta shook his head, understanding that he had been standing with his mouth open like a fish gasping for water, while the rest of the CIC's crew was looking at him and waiting to hear what he had to say. "Sorry, sir, it is just that… that the ship is accelerating at 375 gees, straight towards us!"

_Okaaay, what did Gaeta drink last night? Or smoke?_

Contraband was always a problem, and Adama wasn't even sure of how could they even _grow_ the stuff on ships, but somebody somehow must be able to, as the only possible explanation for Gaeta's answer. He must have said it wrong, because even the Valkyrie, as the fastest capital ship in their arsenal, could achieve 175 gees, maybe 200 if the captain was prepared to risk blowing up the engines or risk for the inertial dampeners to skip a beat with dire consequences for the crew. But a ship having 375 gees of acceleration was simply ridiculous. No capital ship's inertial dampeners could possibly be able to negate such acceleration. The ship's crew would simply be plastered all over the back walls at such acceleration while instantly being turned into goo. "Mr. Gaeta, did you just say 375 gees?"

"Correction, sir. Now they are at 390 gees," Gaeta said while turning to look at Adama, incredulously. He also noticed the CO's _what-did-you-smoke-last-night_ combined with the _get-a-grip_ look he was getting back. "Sir, I can assure you that I checked the sensor data three times before saying anything, and I'm also receiving telemetry from our other two ships that are detecting the same acceleration."

Adama needed to calm down. Something must be wrong here. The Cylons couldn't have possibly been able to upgrade their ships to such a degree. They would have seen signs of it before if they had been able to. However, there was another option too. "Do we have a positive identification on the ship?"

"I'm getting a clear image right now." With the sudden stupor of having calculated an acceleration factor that simply wasn't possible, he had delayed the identification of the ship.

Adama watched Gaeta as he looked straight at his console, immediately noticing the frown the man was putting, probably as a direct result of having gotten a clear picture of what they were facing. Even this was enough for Adama to know that they weren't facing a Cylon baseship, or Cylons at all.

Adama sighed. "Mr. Gaeta, please put the image on the main screen."

He did and, as a result, the entire crew remained frozen with their mouths agape, nobody saying anything. Or rather, that was everybody except for one person. A certain marine, who had been guarding the CIC's entrance, had silently slipped out of the CIC and had immediately started running as if there were wolfs behind him, chasing him. He needed to make a quick call.

Adama on the other hand - the same as everybody else on the CIC - didn't pay any attention to the sudden disappearance of the marine, and that was because they were all looking straight at the main display, clueless of what they were seeing. The image was showing something that clearly was a ship, but its shape was leaving Adama dumbfounded. The ship looked like a freakish golden pyramid with some kind of dark superstructure all around it. Definitely not the way ships were usually built.

_Well, there's always hope they are friendly. Yeah, right!_

"The ship is approximately six hundred meters wide, sir," Gaeta replied. He could only hope that it had the same length, but he couldn't see from the image.

Six hundred meters wasn't much, Adama thought, especially if the ship was circular overall. It would mean that the Galactica and the Pegasus easily dwarfed its mass, but he also wasn't certain if size and mass were so important when facing a completely unknown ship, even less since the ship was showing an acceleration that the Galactica could only dream of achieving.

"Should we jump away, Bill," Saul asked. He was also of the opinion that the six hundred meters information didn't mean much.

"We can't. We still have a missing raptor and I want to know what happened to it. Nevertheless, let's not take any risks if it turns out that they are not so friendly. Battle stations! I want the shield charged and ready to be brought online, and all vipers in the air, all done ten minutes ago," Adama ordered. With the acceleration the unknown ship was displaying, there wouldn't be long before they were in weapons range of each other. "Dee, start broadcasting our greetings message and try to open a channel with that ship. I don't know who they are and what they want, but that doesn't necessarily mean they won't talk to us."

The crew immediately went to work, all of them knowing exactly what their job was. Soon, the first vipers sped from the larger Galactica into the void of space, quickly forming squadrons and pushing toward the unknown ship. They would be the first to meet it, even before the capital ships entered weapons range, or at least that was if the unknown ship had a similar weapons range as their ships had.

Adama wanted to start pacing up and down the CIC, but he knew that he needed to show confidence to the rest of the crew and crossing miles while moving left and right inside of the small CIC definitely wouldn't show that. Thus, he remained standing in front of the DRADIS, waiting patiently. He had also started thinking about what Cain's report of when they had found that other inhabited planet with humans on it had contained. The people on the planet had informed them that centuries ago their ancestors had been slaves to someone presenting itself as a God, with supernatural powers. They had said that he would come to the planet through the Ring of the Gods, Chapa'ai or whatever its name was, or sometimes that he would come with a ship looking like a pyramid. When he had read the report, he'd quickly dismissed the recounting of those people as being simple stories passed down through generations and having lost most of the truth in them. But now, he wasn't so certain anymore, since he was currently staring at a frakking ship that very much resembled a pyramid. And if this were true, maybe the part of the God showing supernatural powers was true as well. And also, what was that frakking contraption in Pegasus' cargo hold then? If it was true that the presumed God had come to the planet with a ship that looked like a pyramid, then it should also be possible that he had come to their planet through that ring as well. What was that ring? Baltar had already said that it was a device, possibly millions of years old, which meant there was a good chance that it served as some kind of transportation system. After all, they had ships capable of jumping light years in a blink of an eye. Could that be a device that did the same, but for people instead of ships? Such device could be incredibly useful. If the colonies had them on all of their planets, travel could be as easy as stepping through it.

He would have to reevaluate everything he knew, but now wasn't the right time, since the unknown ships was quickly approaching them. From the information he was getting, the ship was already decelerating while entering the last leg of its intercept course. "Dee, did we get any response from them?"

"No, sir."

Well, there were two possibilities why that was. The first was that the alien ship had completely different communication protocols and they were simply unable to hear or understand their messages - albeit Adama was more of the opinion that such advanced ship should be able to pick up and understand whatever format their message was in – and, as the second option, and the one he was thinking was the real case here, was that they simply didn't want to answer. Because of it, a certain feeling of dread was starting to creep in the back of his mind, starting to think that this situation was not going to end well. "Bring the shield online."

"Shield is online and charged at one hundred percent," Gaeta promptly replied. He continued looking at his console, monitoring sensor data as it came in. Not even a minute later, he noticed something strange. "Sir, the alien ship's deceleration has increased. They are at 400 gees of deceleration now."

This was peculiar, Adama thought. The ship had increased their deceleration immediately after the Galactica had raised its shield and that meant two things. First - and the thing that he liked - was that the alien craft probably wasn't expecting an opponent that had a protective shield, and second - and the thing he _didn't _like - was that the alien craft had easily been able to detect their shield surrounding their ship, which meant advanced sensors, the foreknowledge of shield technology and hence a great chance of the enemy having shields of their own. "Mr. Gaeta, I want a spectral analysis of the alien ship. More specifically, I want to know if our sensors are detecting anything indicative of a shield present around that ship."

Gaeta began working on his console, in less than a minute having the result. "There is, sir. The alien ship definitely has a shield around it."

"Frak!" Saul added. Apparently, shields were the norm in the galaxy. The Colonials and the Cylons were probably the only races not having them. "Bill, if that ship is technologically equal to the alien craft we've recovered, I dread what kind of shields _they_ have."

Adama was dreading the same thing. What the shield of that small craft - after Baltar had added some additional capacitors and integrated it with the Galactica's systems - had been able to do in the battle they'd had against the Cylons, he really didn't want to think what a shield that had been planned from the start to protect a much larger capital ship could do.

Did they even have weapons capable of taking it down?

"The vipers have entered weapons range, sir. Still no reply from the ship," Gaeta said, worriedly.

Adama was monitoring the situation as well. The vipers had reached weapons range and now were in the process of making a turnover. The ship wasn't showing any sign of aggression, the same as that it wasn't showing any sign of wanting to make contact with them. It was simply approaching their position and doing nothing. "Notify our vipers to be ready for anything. I don't like how that ship is behaving."

"Sir, Admiral Cain is asking if we should treat the unknown vessel as hostile," Dee said.

"Tell her not yet, but to be ready and I want you to broadcast a warning stating that if they don't reply to our hails or if they don't stop their approach, that we will have no choice but to open fire. State that there would be no more warnings. They have one minute to comply."

Dee sent the message as her CO had stated, waiting and hoping there would be a reply or at the very least that the ship would put brakes on their approach. Unfortunately, it seemed neither would happen, as the minute had almost passed. "They are not replying and their current approach hasn't changed."

Adama was about to reply, but Gaeta was faster. "The spectral analysis is showing a change. There is a rise of emissions coming from several points on the ship's hull."

Adama knew what it was. Those were weapons ports, but he didn't have time to say anything when Gaeta shouted.

"Weapons fire detected!"

"Return fire!" Adama ordered, with no delay.

The next instant, the ship rocked violently, several times in quick succession, causing sparks to fly from consoles and the light to blink in and out. "Status!"

"Shield has dropped at 77 percent and I'm detecting damage to the hull! They are using some kind of plasma energy weapon that seems very effective against our shield. All ships are returning fire, but I'm not detecting any damage to the enemy ship. Our vipers have scattered, they are being targeted with smaller weapons as well."

That was it. "Order the vipers to retreat and the fleet to be ready to jump!" Adama ordered. The alien ship was definitely powerful and too much of an unknown to risk it.

"Sir! The Valkyrie just reported her jump drive going offline."

Adama felt frustration rise. The Valkyrie was the standard crap you would expect from a ship built in peacetime. On paper, the ship looked powerful beyond its size, but in reality, the ship lacked the needed redundancy ships of war _usually_ had and that was exactly because they had built the ship with characteristics that on paper would sound amazing. Whoever checked the performance of the ship, they would look at how many weapon mounts it had, how fast it was, and even how comfortable it was for the crew, but nobody would look at how many cables went from the reactor to the jump drive so that if one got severed there would be others to take the load.

The piece of crap would lose at least one system every time it got hit, albeit usually a system that wasn't critical or that wouldn't influence the ship's combat performance, because on paper that _was _what was important. However, sometimes combat wasn't the right choice, as it wasn't the right choice in this case, in which escaping would have been a much better option if available. But now that the ship was stuck in the system against an enemy that had more than twice its acceleration, the ship couldn't escape on sublight either and that meant that they would have to stay and fight.

They needed to break that ship's protective shield somehow or they were frakked. "All ships are to target the same point on the enemy ship, and I'm authorizing the use of nuclear ordinance."

There were only two things that could possibly break that shield, their nuclear arsenal and the Pegasus' heavy railguns. Everything else they had was probably making whoever was on board that ship laugh so hard that they were currently on the floor rolling and gasping for air.

He really hoped it would be enough, because if it wasn't, this was the very end of their journey.

* * *

"Dropping from hyperspace in one minute, sir," the helm informed the Captain.

Pendergast watched the swirling blue of hyperspace through the frontal display, pensively. He didn't like what they were doing. The Prometheus wasn't the type of ship he would call the best of what the Terrans had at their disposal, not by a long shot. It was the first Terran space ship ever to had been built, the ship that had skipped most of the upgrades in the last five years and lastly it was the ship that had been scheduled for decommissioning because it was simply better to scrap it than to try to upgrade it to something it could never become. But then, out of the blue, the mission to monitor the Colonials and Cylons had come, in which the ship wasn't to engage any enemy ship openly. That in turn had meant that the Prometheus was a very good choice, instead of having to take some other and more modern warship from any of the many wars the Terrans were currently fighting, like against the Ori, Wraith, Leptinians or Aschen.

In Pendergast's opinion, the ship wasn't ready to face a Ha'tak, no matter of which type the Ha'tak was. The plasma cannons the Prometheus had were a joke when compared to the current Asgard plasma beam weapons that other Terran ships employed and its shields weren't on par with the current shield technology the Terrans had become accustomed in using. Combined with a much weaker power source, since the ship hadn't been upgraded in that regard in ages, it was pretty obvious that a Ha'tak could pose a serious threat to the ship.

He hoped the Hat'ak they'd have to face was possibly friendly and that talking would be all they'd have to do once there, but hoping in the best outcome was also for fools. He needed any advantage he could get instead of hoping.

"Change of plans. Prepare for a crash translation."

A chorus of hushed down _'oy'_, _'no'_ and _'what-the-fuck-for'_ were heard on the bridge, and Brian had been among those to mumble the last phrase. He also understood that standing behind the captain wasn't an option anymore and that he should find a seat and strap in it, which was exactly what he'd rushed to do, very quickly.

He wasn't an expert in hyper physics, but even he knew what a crash translation entailed. In a normal translation, during the translation through the hyperspace window, most of the ship's momentum and speed would bleed off, leaving the ship in normal space almost stationary, which was actually a great thing. It allowed the ship to discard the speed it had achieved in hyperspace, thus allowing it to come to a full stop more easily. The difference with a crash translation was that the process of reverting from hyperspace into normal space was shortened by the final few microseconds, which resulted in a much higher exit velocity for the ship. Of course, this was a great thing when you were entering into a possible battle because it gave the ship an edge compared to the other ships already in normal space and practically motionless, but there were negative factors as well. The _hastened_ translation also meant that the ship was put under tremendous stress and that there was a certain sensation of nausea combined with a feeling of having just crashed into a wall - which was exactly why it was called a crash translation – that nobody of the crew liked. There were probably those of the crew right now betting on who'd throw up and who wouldn't. There was the positive side though, of the ship exiting like a bullet and that was probably the reason why Pendergast wanted a crash translation.

As Brian finished strapping into his seat, he glanced at Pendergast. "Are you sure that this is necessary?"

"We will have the element of surprise on our side, the ship will go much faster, which means it will be that much harder to hit us on the first pass, and our intercept time will be greatly shortened. I think that, since in my humble opinion this ship should never go against a Ha'tak, these few advantages will be greatly appreciated and needed, possibly even being what will allow us to win if at all possible."

"You're right, of course, but I still hope we are dealing with the Jaffa and that we'll be able to sort this out without firing a single shot."

"Hope is great, but I can't plan by taking hope into account. And somehow I don't think the Jaffa would even be here," Pendergast replied.

"Translation in 5…4…3…2…1," the navigation officer counted down.

The Prometheus burst into normal space like a bullet, 200.000 kilometers from the Lagrange Point where the Ha'tak and the Colonial ships currently were, with a speed of 1.500 KPS (kilometers per second). The ship immediately began decelerating hard at 600 gees in order not to overshoot their target, _by too much_.

"Send the subspace message," Pendergast ordered.

The comm. officer immediately sent the message that, since it was sent through subspace, the Colonials couldn't even detect, but the Ha'tak still could. The message was simple and short, simply stating who they were and that they were to desist from engaging the Colonial ships. "I'm not receiving any reply from the Hat'ak."

"What can you tell me about the Hat'ak?" Pendergast asked, the question directed at the sensors officer.

"Active scanning indicates we are dealing with a Ha'tak type I, sir."

"The Jaffa don't have type ones in their fleet, they barely have a few type twos these days, which means we are probably dealing with some Goa'uld or Lucian remnants."

"I would say it is the Lucians, sir," the sensors officer replied.

"Why do you say that?"

"The sensors are getting some strange readings coming from the ship. More specifically, there are some fluctuations in the ship's power generation system," the officer replied, noticing that Pendergast was still looking at him with an 'and-that-means-what' kind of look. "It probably means that the ship would greatly benefit from some maintenance time, and we know from experience that the Lucians are not very proficient at maintaining their ships."

"Good point, Lieutenant." Pendergast replied, thoughtfully. After the last Lucian debacle – in which Jack's plan had tricked them, as well as the Wraith, Ori and Aschen to gather all in one place, hoping they would find some top secret Terran base and where instead they had ended up killing each other – they had scattered to all four corners of the galaxy, effectively being the end of the Lucian Alliance as an organization. After that, the Terrans hadn't heard anything about the Lucians, but now there was a chance they had found some of the remnants who'd gone in hiding.

"Sir, the Hat'ak has stopped targeting the Colonials and it is turning to face us," the same officer replied.

"Which means that they are not giving up," Pendergast said, quickly glancing at his display and noticing that in thirty seconds they would be in weapons range. "Prepare to open fire, full barrage from the plasma cannons. Do not wait for my order to fire."

The Prometheus continued on its trajectory, while steadily decreasing its speed. The ship would still overshoot the Hat'ak on its strafe run, but that didn't mean they couldn't unleash a barrage of hot plasma on the Ha'tak as they pass by it.

The thirty seconds passed and both ships unleashed a hailstorm of hot plasma bolts at each other, the impacts making both ship's shields glow brightly. As they passed each other, the two ships began their turnaround preparing for the next confrontation. Albeit the Ha'tak had been able to fire more times, with the ship capable of firing from the cannons on its opposite side as well once they'd passed each other, still, the sudden appearance of the Terrans ship hadn't left the presumed Lucians enough time to make accurate calculations and that had resulted in several more misses than for the Terran ship.

The second run went almost the same as the first one, with both ship firing multiple times and inevitably both ships sustaining blows to their shields.

"Status!" Pendergast shouted while the ship was turning for the third run at the Ha'tak. Shields at sixty percent and a few minor systems have sustained damage, but we are still fully combat-capable. I'm detecting a drop in the Ha'tak's shields, but they are still capable of providing complete protection for the ship."

Pendergast didn't like it. The ship was a tough nut to crack and he needed to deplete their shields somehow. Then, he thought about using the Mk. IX Naquadria enhanced warhead, but that fat lady was like dropping a newborn star in space and the Colonials were still too close - and without shields - for his comfort in using it. Then, he remembered that the type I Ha'tak had problems with their shield generator when the ship was hit from several sides at the same time and sometimes the result was partial loss of shielding. Anubis' shields had solved the problem, but this was a type I Ha'tak and that meant it was susceptible to such type of attack.

"Load all tubes with Mark VIIs, double firing mode. I want a full-spread barrage, and time it so that all nukes hit at the same time. Fire when optimal range has been achieved."

This was one of the few upgrades the Prometheus _did_ get, mostly because it was an easy one to do. The Type II Torpedo launchers were capable of loading a torpedo, with another one readily available to be loaded in the next five seconds. It almost gave the ship the appearance of having eight tubes instead of four, especially if they made the calculations right. The difficult part was to give the first four torpedoes fired a slightly slower acceleration, which allowed the second barrage to gain on them and reach the target at the same time, which was delicate work since the enemy ship wasn't standing still in one place.

The Prometheus reached optimal firing range, unleashing four MK. VIIs, quickly followed by four more with a slightly higher acceleration, hence capable of gaining on the first ones. The detonations weren't perfectly synced, but perfection was rarely ever achieved anyway. The detonations erupted on impact everywhere around the Ha'tak ship, blossoming as small stars. The Prometheus then fired from their four plasma cannons, adding more strain to the already overtaxed Ha'tak's shields.

But the Prometheus wasn't the only ship firing.

The bridge of the Prometheus shook violently, with a console blowing up in the rear. Pendergast knew the ship was at its limit, but he didn't have time to ask for a detailed report on the sustained damage, not while the Ha'tak was still in one piece and firing. "Status of the Ha'tak!"

"I'm detecting a complete drop in shields on the starboard side of the ship!"

"Let's end this! Fire everything we've got at that side!" Pendergast ordered, with all due haste.

The shields of the Ha'tak now had a hole and they needed to exploit it, but that didn't mean the Ha'tak was out of the battle. The ship fired from all weapon mounts oriented toward the once again approaching Prometheus, while the Prometheus did the same. Plasma bolts flew from both sides, hitting their targets. Four newly loaded Mk. VIIs flew toward the Ha'tak, with two managing to hit the region where the shield was down. Again small suns erupted, and this time it had been too much for the Lucian Ha'tak. A large chunk of the ship's starboard side simply broke off from the rest. Quickly, more secondary explosions lit the already crumbling Ha'tak, those explosions happening inside the central pyramidal structure. One last massive explosion signaled the complete destruction of the ship.

Fire and smoke were spreading on the bridge of the Terran ship, the crew quickly attempting to put the fire out with ready to use extinguishers. The first response med-team was there too, called after the third pass, and already working on the two injured crewmembers that had been close to the last explosion. Pendergast was looking around, trying to assess the damage on the bridge. They were in one piece, but the situation wasn't pretty. "Status of the enemy ship?"

"It just blew up, sir. The enemy has been destroyed."

"And our status?"

"Shields are down at ten percent, there are hull breaches on several decks, but they have all been sealed off, and both hyperdrive and sublight engines are offline. And we also have some problems with our weapons, sir, both our plasma cannons and three of our launch tubes."

"What about the crew?" Pendergast asked. In battle, the state of the ship is the most important thing, but since the battle was over, what he wanted to know now the most was how his crew had fared the battle.

"No fatalities have been reported yet, sir. Besides the two injured on the bridge, we have two more injured, but sickbay reports they appear to have sustained only minor and not life threatening injuries. There could still be more reports coming in, it is too early to say," the comm. officer replied promptly.

"All right, let's now prioritize the repairs. Sublight and hyperdrive have priority."

"Umm… sir, I'm receiving a message addressed to us from the Colonial ship Pegasus. From a certain Admiral Cain." The comm. officer said.

"What does the message say, Lieutenant?"

"She's ordering us to power down all nonessential systems and to surrender."

Pendergast sighed. He really didn't expect this, but, apparently, no good deed goes unpunished. And he was pretty angry too, since they had effectively saved all their lives while risking their own, and that was the gratitude they get in return. "Oh, I'm so going to shove a Mk. IX up that ship's throat before I ever surrender to them."

* * *

Adama had been certain this was the day that he'd die. The strange alien craft had been impervious against anything they had thrown at it, including their nuclear missiles and the Pegasus' heavy railguns. The hostile vessel had shrugged off their nuclear missiles with its shield, without even having attempted to intercept them during flight. It was as if it didn't even care if it had been targeted with 1.2 megatons ordinance.

The shield's strength of the Galactica had been steadily dropping with each impact from the alien weapons the pyramidal ship had been firing and with some of the weapons' energy having been able to bleed through and damage the Galactica's hull. The ship had a strong armor, after all the ship had been built with no shields in mind, but still, the hot plasma had melted layer upon layer of the ship's armor plating as if they had been brushing against the coronal plasma emissions of a hot star. And he knew it was only going to get worse as time went.

The other two ships were not faring any better. Without shields, the Pegasus and Valkyrie's armor had to take all of the punishment and, while the Pegasus had even tougher armor than Galactica's, the Valkyrie was in real trouble, with each impact of the hot plasma melting down large chunks of the ship. The ship would have soon turned into nothing but a memory.

But then, a miracle had happened. Out of the blue, the sensors had detected a second unknown ship approaching their position at tremendous speed. Adama didn't know from where it had come from, or why they hadn't been able to detect it sooner. The ship was also showing some amazing performance, like the 600 gees deceleration it was able to sustain. He had also recognized the ship, the same moment they'd received a clear image. It was the same ship that had saved the Colonial One and the vice president when the Cylon Raider had crashed into it and had forced it to jump to the wrong coordinates. The Terrans were here, and Adama didn't know how to feel about it or knew what to do. But, it hadn't mattered much what he felt, since the important thing had been that the pyramidal ship had stopped firing at them and had turned to face the Terran ship in battle.

The battle between the two alien ships had been fierce. In the beginning, Adama had been certain the pyramidal ship would be able to destroy the much smaller Terran ships in short order, as it massed at least five or maybe even ten times more. Soon he'd realized that the Terran ship was incredibly maneuverable, making turns only being possible by much smaller and non-capital ships, and the ship was able to change acceleration from 0 to 600 making it look so easy. The pyramidal ship had advantages of its own as well, since it was apparent to everyone who was watching the battle that the ship had cannons pointing in every direction, making it impossible to find a blind spot from where to target it with impunity.

The two ships had run at each other once, then had turned and run against each other again and again, the whole time having completely disregarded _them_, as if they weren't important, as if their ships didn't pose any threat anyway. Which, after Adama had witnessed the Terran ship fire eight nuclear missiles, each of them creating an explosion ten times more powerful than what their nukes had, and the pyramidal ship surviving the onslaught, he had to admit that they were pretty much useless.

Adama watched as the Terran ship and the pyramidal one unleashed a torrent of plasma bolts at each other, the Terran ship once again firing four nukes at the strange and unknown enemy ship. Thankfully, this time it had been enough even for the monstrosity, as it blew up in million pieces.

The Terrans had won, barely, and Adama couldn't believe it. The ship was a mere 225 meters in length, awkwardly built and something the Colonials would never put in space. And yet, the small ship had won where three of the strongest Colonial capital ships could have not. Well, he could always say that the Terrans had been able to do what they did only because the Colonials had softened the enemy vessel a bit before their arrival, but he knew that was as far from the truth as it gets.

The Terrans didn't go through this battle unscathed though, and that was immediately apparent from the way the ship was drifting in space or even more from the air they saw being expelled from several hull breaches all around it. The last barrage the pyramidal ship had unleashed must have caused a lot of damage, but he was glad to see that the Terran ship was, for the most part, still in one piece.

"Umm... sir, I've just detected a broadcast sent from the Pegasus to the ship we identified as the Prometheus." Dee said meekly. She already knew what the message contained and how much Adama would like to hear it.

Adama frowned. "What does it say?"

"Cain is ordering them to shut down all nonessential systems and to surrender their ship."

_Mother frakker!_

"Give me a direct..." Adama began saying, but Dee interrupted him.

"Sorry sir, I'm receiving a broadcast from the Prometheus addressed to the Pegasus. It says, and I quote, '_It appears that you have pushed the wrong button, Admiral Cain, because we have received a message requesting our surrender instead of receiving a message thanking us for saving your... _umm_... asses."_

True, true, they did save their collective asses, Adama thought, and a thanking note would definitely have been more appropriate. "Give me a..." Adama began saying, but Dee interrupted him, again.

"Sorry sir, but the Pegasus had just replied back, saying that there hasn't been any mix-up and that this is their last warning."

This time Adama had decided to say what he had to say immediately, "Give me a direct line with Cain, right now."

"Yes, sir, I'm already working on it, but she's not responding," Dee said, quickly glancing at her console as it showed something. "The Prometheus is replying saying that if she doesn't desist from her current course of action he will shove a nuke down the ship's throat that will make her understand exactly how Icarus felt in his last moments."

Adama frowned. The mythical Icarus who flew too close to the Sun. An apt example of hubris, and exactly what Cain was doing right now. She was flying dangerously too close to the Sun and she could get burned. But the even bigger problem was that she could get everyone else burned too and Adama still didn't know what she was trying to achieve. What was she trying to accomplish? "Dee, I need that connection with the Pegasus established, right now."

"I'm working on it, but I have no response from her. She sent another message to the Prometheus informing them that if they don't surrender in the next minute, she will open fire. The Prometheus has also replied, but I'm not in liberty to say it out loud. Suffice it to say, the captain of the Prometheus has a very opulent vocabulary when it comes to unflattering names. He also mentioned something called a Mark IX bomb ready to be fired and that it supposedly has a yield in the gigaton range."

Such bomb would not only destroy the Pegasus, but their other two ships with it. Such detonation could have a blast radius that could easily encompass all three of their ships and even the Terran ship, and Adama had the feeling that this was the exact reason why they hadn't used it yet. All four ships would be in its blast radius, but apparently, the Terran captain was telling them this way that he was ready to sacrifice everyone present rather than surrender his ship. The situation was getting worse by the second. "Full speed ahead. I want the Galactica between the Prometheus and the Pegasus. Broadcast a message to everyone, stating that Admiral Cain is acting against orders from her direct superior."

Dee sent the message, and – _surprise!_ – Cain finally accepted the connection. "Connection with the Pegasus has been established, sir, I'm putting her on speakers."

"_Leave me do my work Admiral Adama!" _Cain's voice was heard through the speakers.

"What work? You haven't received orders to seize control of the Terran vessel and you're about to commit an act of war against another race! Stand down immediately, Admiral Cain, that's an order!" Adama stated.

"_I decline to recognize you as the commanding officer of this fleet, _commander_."_

_Commander. _It was an insult to his current rank. Not even three months ago, he was a simple commander, while Cain was already a rear admiral. But when he'd received the command of the Expeditionary Fleet, he'd also received a bump in rank, and a big one at that. He had been promoted to the rank of Admiral, skipping Cain's current rank of rear admiral and effectively outranking her. It was apparent to him now that Cain was pissed about it.

"Rear Admiral Cain," Adama said, on purpose adding the rear in her title although it was never used when addressing anyone who had reached such rank. They were all Admirals and nobody used the rear portion of the title, ever. But now, Adama was doing it on purpose. "I outrank you and I am the CO of the entire Expeditionary Fleet, and like it or not, you're obligated to follow my orders." Adama knew that Cain was a hothead, but he also knew that the woman had never disobeyed a direct order and he was hoping her sense of duty would prevail over whatever this was.

"Don't you understand!? We need the technology on that ship if we want to survive. You saw with your own eyes what those ships are capable of. We need to gain that level of technology, our survival depends on it."

"I witnessed what those ships are capable of doing, Admiral, but this is not the way. You are about to commit an act of war, Helena. You can't do that. Please, see reason."

There was a long pause without an answer, long enough for someone else, who had come to the CIC, to say something. "Admiral, maybe you should leave Admiral Cain to do this. She's right when she says that we need that technology."

Adama turned swiftly, looking straight at Sylus who was standing in front of the CIC's entrance. The blood pressure in Adama suddenly skyrocketed. He was angry beyond measure. He knew that Cain must have heard over the open microphone what Sylus had said. "Marine! Toss that idiot out of the CIC!"

Left of the entrance door, and leaning on the wall, Malcolm stood. He had returned from his little trip in order to contact the Prometheus only moments before Sylus had arrived. Apparently, during the fray, nobody had noticed him missing and now he was being ordered to toss a man out of the CIC, a man he despised and a man who had only seconds ago suggested that Adama should let Cain attack the Prometheus.

His people's ship.

He was fast. It took him two quick steps to reach Sylus. He then grabbed him from behind and with his entire body mass, he pulled the man backwards.

Sylus flew through the open door and into the corridor.

Malcolm slowly walked to the door, closing it and locking it from the inside. He then sidestepped to where he'd been leaning on the wall before, once again standing at attention as if nothing had happened. That was, except for the barely perceptible smile of satisfaction he wasn't able to stop from forming, no matter how much he'd tried.

Adama was plastered. When he order the marine to toss the man out of the CIC, he actually meant for him to escort Sylus out and only if he refused to comply, to use force. Of course, he couldn't deny the joy he'd felt when he'd heard the thud Sylus's body had made when it hit the opposite wall in the corridor, but still, he would have to say a few words to the marine on how he should not take his orders _so literally_. Still, he now had bigger fish to fry, so it would have to wait.

"Admiral Cain," Adama began saying, but he was stopped.

"Sir, Admiral Cain has closed the connection."

That was the exact reason why he'd been so pissed at Sylus and he knew that Sylus had done it on purpose. He had heard in Cain's voice that she was having doubts on what to do, torn between following orders and what she misguidedly believed was paramount for the survival of the Colonies and that was to take the Terran damaged ship. The thing that bothered him was that he still didn't know what Cain was thinking. Did she think that the Terrans would simply do nothing? Did she think that a race that had proved to be more advanced, had only one ship at their disposal? Did she think that they would have the time to be able to inspect the ship before a flotilla of Terran ships showed up?

Adama was starting to think that this last battle had finally pushed Cain towards insanity.

"Sir, the Pegasus is firing from its heavy railguns. Direct hit on the Prometheus, but their shields must be still holding because I'm not detecting any damage to its hull."

"How long until we are between the Pegasus and the Prometheus."

"Almost two minutes, sir."

Two minutes were a lot and from the pounding the Terran ship had already taken, Adama wasn't optimistic on how long the ship would be able to survive Pegasus' assault, or for how long their captain would wait before launching that Mark IX of theirs and obliterate all of them. Two minutes looked as such a long time, and there was no guarantee that the Pegasus would simply stop firing once they were between the two ships, especially if Cain had gone completely insane. This situation had turned into a clusterfrak of galactic proportions, in that at least he was certain.

Worse than it currently was, it simply could not get.

But then, he turned and saw Gaeta's expression. The man simply had no blood in his face anymore. He looked more as a ghost than a living person. "What is it Mr. Gaeta?"

"Unk... unknown ship detected sir, decelerating fast at 1.100 gees and coming straight at us, distance 5.200 kilometers," Gaeta said, turning to face his CO, still pale as a sheet of paper. "Sir, the ship is 2.4 kilometers in length."

_Did someone forget to tell me there's a ships convention in this system today_, Adama thought. "Put it on display."

"Yes, sir," Gaeta said.

The way Gaeta said it, it sounded more like 'yes, sir, but you're not gonna like it' kind of way, and when the image was finally displayed on the screen, he knew exactly why. The ship was the kind you only saw in science fiction movies - albeit, after seeing a pyramid flying around, nothing could surprise him anymore. He also wasn't the type of person who liked to judge at first glance, he liked more having hard evidence first, but even without them, it looked to him that the shape of the ship somehow seemed... predatory. Its shape, with the pointy nose and the two large vertical pylons on the much wider stern, was making the unknown ship almost look as some kind of bird, and a very menacing bird at that. The glistening silver surface, smooth and almost looking as if the entire ship had been made from one single piece, gave it an alien feeling, while at the same time showing a level of technology that was needed to build such ship that the Colonies could only dream of having.

The Galactica couldn't face a ship like the Prometheus any day. A ship like this, he wasn't sure if even if they used every last ship in the Colonies all together that they could win against a single one of them. He of course couldn't be certain of that, but somehow he just knew it was true, he knew it in his gut.

In thirty seconds flat, the very alien ship had reached their current position and with incredible agility it had stopped in front of the Prometheus, in a clearly protective fashion. The Pegasus had already fired a few more shots, which the alien ship's shields shrugged off as if those were blanks. Even the Pegasus had stopped firing, which he thought was a very good thing, if not already too late.

For a while, nothing had happened, but then, suddenly, systems all over the ship became unresponsive, one after the other. It didn't even matter if the system was networked or not, which was clearly indicating that a virus wasn't causing this, but no one on the ship knew what else it could be. Systems never shut down like this, out of the blue. Adama thought that for everything happening there must be a rational explanation, but he was at his limits, the same as the rest of the crew inside of the CIC. Then, as the life support and a few other essential systems were the only ones still working, the light inside of the CIC began to inexplicably dim out. It was as if darkness was entering inside of the CIC, but not because of a light having gone out. No, the feeling was completely different. It was almost as if the darkness was some kind of fog that was spreading inside. He couldn't understood or explain how this was possible.

He couldn't explain how any of this was possible, anything of what had happened today.

He saw panic rising in the crew, the same way as it was slowly creeping inside of him. However, real fear he felt only when he heard _the voice_...

... a voice, seemingly coming from everywhere.

_"I am Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet and commander of the warship Valhalla. You attacked a damaged Terran ship that could not defend itself, only moments after its crew had placed their lives in peril in order to save yours from certain death. The Terrans are dear friends of the Asgard and we do not take kindly of those who cowardly attack our friends. _

_"Yours was a clear and unprovoked act of war and only because of the actions of one of your ships that attempted to shield the damaged Terran ship, and because the Terrans have asked us to show leniency, that we are currently not at war. A war your race would have no hope of winning._

_"We will leave this place in peace and let you deal with the transgressors, those of your people responsible for such a vile act. Leave this place as well with the gift of a second chance the Asgard have granted you. _

_"However, heed my warning and do not waste the chance given... for the Asgard do not give a third."_

The voice stopped, the illumination returned to its normal level and system after system came back online. The main display flickered and then came back to normal, now showing the massive silver ship repositioned on top of the much smaller Terran ship, somehow docking it bellow even though no cables were visible. Together, they sped away, vanishing from both visual and sensor range.

They were still alive, something Adama had doubted it would end up being the outcome of this day, on too many occasions. Nevertheless, they'd made it, but no thanks to Cain. "Saul, I want that bi... Admiral Cain relieved of duty and into custody ASAP!"

"Oh, it will be my pleasure, Bill. Consider it done," Saul said, quickly moving towards the door. He opened it and almost bumped into Sylus who was trying to come inside. "Get out of my way!"

Sylus moved, letting Saul pass, before entering the CIC. He glanced on his left, noticing the same marine who'd tossed him out of the CIC. The marine was grinning, but the marine also didn't know that Sylus had a long memory. He wouldn't forget and there would be a time for payback. He turned and walked in the center of the CIC where Adama was standing. The Admiral looked tired with both hands on the DRADIS console almost as if to keep his weight in order to prevent himself from falling. "Admiral Adama, we need..."

"Mister Sylus, I will tell you this only once, so you better listen. You pull a stunt like the one you pulled earlier again and I will personally put you inside an airlock and vent the atmosphere. Your stunt almost caused us a war of massive proportions."

"I was just suggesting..."

"Mister Sylus! Do not take me for a fool. I know exactly why you said it, and why you did it in the exact moment when Admiral Cain was in doubt. You wanted her to hear you through the open mike. So, I suggest you take my warning very seriously and I also want you to get the hell out of my sight! Do I make myself clear?"

Sylus remained frozen. Of course he'd said it so that Cain wouldn't have changed her mind, and it had worked too. Although, he had to admit, the outcome hadn't been what he had hoped for - since, apparently, they hadn't been able to capture the ship and some weird stuff had happened with the ship's systems - and now faking ignorance in front of a very pissed Adama wouldn't do him any good either. The best thing he could do right now was exactly what Adama had suggested and that was to leave the CIC very quickly. However, one thing was becoming more obvious with each passing moment and that was that he would, in the not so distant future, have some serious problems with Adama. He was starting to threaten him openly, no matter that he knew that Adama was now in a state of rage and wasn't thinking clearly, it still meant that he would have to be careful around him from now on. Adama was the type of person who never broke his promise, even when it gave it in a moment of rage.

"Of course," Sylus said, quickly turning and walking out of the CIC. He would have to find out what had happened later. He was itching to know what the CIC crew had witnessed and even more to find out why everybody inside the CIC looked so pale, as if they'd just seen a ghost.

Something must have spooked them, badly.

* * *

_**Please leave a review, they're always appreciated.**_


	13. Liberation

**Author's note: **Somehow managed to write a chapter. Other things keep me busy, and writing this chapter didn't go as smoothly as it is usually the case. Well, not all chapters can, I suppose.

**Reviews:**

**Anonymous:** Changed it. I wrote small grin, which is a contradiction and doesn't make much sense. I meant a small smile that escaped him. Like when you try to keep a straight face, but you're doing a poor job at it.

It is difficult to determine the strength of the Prometheus since it never fought a Hat'ak. What I know is that an Anubis' Ha'tak was able to win against a Beliskner, and a Beliskner is much more powerful than the Prometheus. So I had two options, having Anubis upgraded the previous Ha'tak so that its strength raised tenfold, in which case the Prometheus should be stronger, or being a little more conservative with the difference between the type I and II, which means the Prometheus and the Ha'tak should be around the same strength. There are also other indications from the show that the Prometheus wasn't that powerful, and those were also the reasons why they stopped production immediately after the prototype.

A ship is not liable if it doesn't get upgraded. It is liable if people use duct-tape to keep it operational. If ships were liable if not upgraded regularly, half the navies around the worlds would have liable ships, since there are many that haven't been upgraded in decades. It is all a mater of resources and priorities. Do you dedicate a shipyard to upgrade a ship like the Prometheus that will never be on par with the Daedalus, or do you use that same shipyard to build a more modern ship? You need to choose one or the other. Can't have both.

I understood you were talking about Malcolm from the first review. ;)

**Sam:** I don't think that command structure has much to do with what happened. Cain's state of mind is what's important. She lost ships against the Cylons when she shouldn't have, and then fought a foe that was so far ahead of them that she was incapable of doing anything to win the battle. Suddenly, she realizes the Colonies are threatened and unable to defend themselves against such foe that hasn't even tried to contact them, but instead opened fire without warning. Then, the Prometheus comes and wins in the engagement, but it is damaged and in bad shape, and she sees the only chance she will ever get to get her hands on technology capable of evening the odds. She didn't think of the consequences, just of the opportunity she knew it wouldn't present itself ever again. And from the show we know that Cain doesn't have any ethical constraints if she thinks it is something she needs to do for the Colonies.

**Guest2:** The stories are not in sync, and one chapter in one story doesn't necessarily mean the same amount of time has passed as in a chapter in the other story. That said, there are clues so you know how the stories correlate. Two chapters ago, Jack mentions that Liam is preparing to go to the Ori galaxy, which is a pretty solid lead to understand where we are in the other story.

**Guest (chapter 7):** Wrong typing. It should have been Saul yelled, at least as much as Saul usually raises his voice when he's surprised.

_**Thanks to my beta, and hope you'll like this chapter as well.**_

* * *

Ba'al had a smile going from ear to ear, while the rows of newsgroups and photo reporters were immortalizing his shaking of the president's hand. However, what was going on inside his head at that exact moment was everything but happiness.

He was literally fuming inside.

His plan was a simple one. Lay low, give the Colonies the technologies they so desperately needed, and only then become famous, in a different host. But the moronic president had other plans, apparently.

_Who in his right mind announces the existence of top-secret research projects before they are finished? _

Of course, the press conference didn't reveal to the public any details, but even stating that their research was finalizing the development of a new power source and a weapon that would turn the tide of the war in their favor was too much to deliberately spread it to the wind. And the Graystone Industries had jumped at the opportunity like a pack of hyenas descending on an exhausted and lonely prey. It was free press, it was done by no less than the president himself, and it would inevitably put them as the lead research firm in the colonies, even more than they already were. He understood that nobody cared what it meant for him, or rather, to Doctor Robert Desai. He was now a public figure.

He had just become a target.

There would be paparazzi waiting to document every move he'd make, news celebrities wanting to interview him and try to extort information he could not give, all of them limiting his movements from now on. But even this wasn't what worried him the most. What worried him the most was the fact that there could be people who would certainly find his existence a threat, like other research companies and, of course, like the Cylons. If he were a Cylon, he would think of a way of getting rid of the scientist that was, by all appearance, very close to deliver to the Colonials the blueprints that were going to change the tide of the war in their favor.

He really didn't like the thought of catching a bullet or of being strangled in his sleep.

And last, but not least, people – mostly other scientists – could start questioning his ability in developing technology nobody else even remotely could have in such a short period of time. He wasn't worried about the president or someone working for him thinking that. Humans were often like that and the president wasn't an exception. He was getting what he wanted, therefore he cared very little on how he got it. He would simply disregard all evidence or suspicions that something else was at work here and that, in truth, no scientist could so quickly come up with new and revolutionary theories like he had. If he were smart and was thinking rationally, the president should have questioned his statement that he already had readily available designs he'd worked on as a _hobby_ in his spare time and that only missed _one_ component for all of it to work perfectly. It was a weak lie, he knew that, but the president would never question it because he above all wanted results, and such way of thinking could delay that.

Baal turned and saw the sad sod that he knew only by name as Admiral Nagala. From his depressed expression, he understood that at least one other person present there thought that this was a bad idea, not to mention very time consuming. He could be doing more important work instead of smiling like an idiot in front of the cameras.

As the never-ending shaking of hands had finally ended, the two of them once more waved at the cameras, still smiling, before moving out of the pressroom, closely trailed by the admiral.

"Thank you, Doctor, you're doing a great service to the Colonies," the president said, now that they were alone.

Ba'al wasn't sure if he'd enjoy more torturing the man as his new host for the next thousand years until his body became too frail to use it anymore, or if a more traditional way of torture would give him more pleasure. The memories of his _alone time_ with O'Neill were still quite vivid in his mind.

He so missed the days of torturing people.

"No need to thank me, Mister President, and I'm looking forward to spending more time with you," Baal said with a broad and genuine smile, quickly noticing the confused expression on the president's face. "I mean, to discuss more projects I have in mind, that is."

"Oh, of course," the president replied, still a little uncertain. "Anything that can help us win this war."

"Mister President," Nagala interrupted their conversation. "I believe some protection for our lead scientist is in order. After all, he is now a very public figure, and we wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him."

"Good thinking, Admiral. We need to protect one of our most valuable assets," the president replied.

"I was thinking we should also change his residence. His apartment is very difficult to defend, and there are too many residents in the building."

"Of course, of course, adequate accommodations should be made available to such an esteemed scientist. We can't have him live in a small apartment," the president replied.

Ba'al didn't mind changing residence, especially if the next one would be more in line with the luxuries he'd once been accustomed to, but he had the feeling that the protection detail would become more as his jailers and his new residence his jail cell, and only be allowed to leave it when going to work. There was still a lot he needed to do that nobody else needed to know anything about. Still, some protection wasn't the worst idea he heard recently. He felt torn between options, but then he suddenly realized that he actually didn't have a saying in what would happen next.

This wasn't going exactly how he had planned.

Ba'al's thoughts were stopped by the president speaking again. "Well, Doctor Desai, I have other obligations I need to attend to, so, I'll leave you to the capable hands of your escort." The president turned to Nagala. "I believe you, Admiral, also have some prior obligations that necessitate your presence, isn't that the case?"

Nagala visibly shrugged. "Yes, Mister President, I was about to depart from your company."

Ba'al didn't have much time to scrutinize Nagala's defeated stand when the lead NID agent, part of his escort, informed him that it was time to move. Something was definitely bothering the Admiral, but he had problems of his own to worry about than to think of what was that all that about.

* * *

Nagala blankly stared through the window of the small transport that was taking him back to his ship, the battlestar Columbia, the twin ship to the Pegasus and the current flagship of the Third Fleet - if it could be called that way. A Fleet should be stronger than the twelve capital ships that formed its bulk. To him, it looked more as a glorified task force than a Fleet, but, for PR purposes, the President felt that designating the group of ships that were to free Caprica a fleet would sound much better to the public than calling it a mere task force.

Nagala sighed, worried about the engagement with the Cylons that was about to commence in short order. From the intelligence gathered thus far, the Cylons had a strong force in orbit above Caprica, with an armada of already deployed raiders present as support to the fourteen baseships. He was certain they could take them in a head on clash, but not really certain about the losses they would sustain. What troubled him even more was that he didn't know if the Cylons had more ships ready to jump and provide additional support and what he would do if that happened. In such case, he would probably jump away, rather than allow the Cylons to destroy his _fleet_. However, he also knew that, if that was to occur, his career would be over. The president would most certainly be displeased to learn that he had jumped the _fleet_ away, with Caprica remaining in Cylon hands. It would be a blow to his campaign - something he didn't think as such a bad thing, since it would probably mean Adar losing the presidency - but he knew the bastard would fire him on the spot, if for no other reason, then just for spite.

Nagala extricated himself from his seat as he felt the transport land in Columbia's hangar. He went to the rear, waiting patiently until the door opened. As it did, outside, his XO, Boris patiently awaited his arrival. He stepped out. "XO, is everything ready?"

"It is, Admiral. The, umm, _fleet, _is ready to engage their jump drives the moment you give the order. Viper pilots are also on standby. The moment we finish the jump, the vipers can be launched."

"Good, good. Any change in what awaits us there?" Nagala began moving out of the hangar with the XO in tow.

"The last stealth raptor landed ten minutes ago. The pilot reports no change in Caprica's orbit."

Nagala sighed, "Well, let's hope the Cylons are not planning to change that the moment we jump in. That would be a very bad thing."

"Yes, sir, that would be very bad. However, there's no indication they have any ships in the vicinity, which should indicate that, even if they have more ships ready to be deployed, they still need to send word of our attack first. All predictions estimate at least a fifteen minutes window of opportunity before more ships could arrive, and that is under the worst case scenario."

"Fifteen minutes is a lot of time. The entire engagement could be over in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir, it is possible, but not likely. Not when facing so many raiders and fourteen baseships."

Nagala nodded absently, while continuing his walk toward the ship's CIC. It took them five more minutes to reach it, mostly spent in silence or while saluting other members of the ship's crew, all busy with the last preparations. Nagala had the clear impression that the crew was tense, and he couldn't blame them for it. Many were clear novices, who had barely spent a few weeks on a ship, much less having witnessed the real horror of the war they were facing. They were clearly underprepared for the task at hand, but the president had issued the order ahead of time, and there was nothing Nagala could have done to delay their deployment.

Nagala and the XO stepped into the CIC, people quickly snapping at attention while saluting. "At ease people." He proceeded to stand in front of the DRADIS, with the XO on his side. "Communication, inform the fleet we are to jump in five minutes. We are now at full battle stations."

"Yes, sir," the comm. officer snapped back, quickly going to work.

Nagala nodded, calm and composed, trying to project confidence. Time trickled slowly, five minutes seemingly lasting for much longer than they should.

The time came, and the Third Fleet jumped.

* * *

"… all battlestars are launching vipers! Raiders will be in weapons range in two minutes. Baseships in range in three minutes," Nagala heard an officer shout.

"Deploy the Fleet as planned. Battlestars into defensive formation, gunships are to target the Cylon baseships. Focus fire on two closest baseships at a time. Vipers are to form squadrons on our flanks in respect to the approaching raiders." While the Battlestars would show their broadsides, using their batteries to intercept the missiles that would inevitably be launched against them, the smaller gunships – a modern derivative of the Defender class meant as capital ship killers, would bring their heavy cannons on two baseships at a time, leaving the whole job of protecting them against incoming missiles and raiders to the battlestars and the vipers.

Nagala watched the DRADIS, as the raiders inexorably pushed towards their formation. As seconds tricked by, he watched the first wave of raiders pass the line the DRADIS was showing as the Fleet's weapons range. "All railguns, open fire!"

The ten battlestars in the wall formation opened fire from the many railguns on their broadsides. In return the raiders launched missiles, a lot of them.

"Vipers are to flank the raiders from both sides. Keep them at long weapons range," Nagala ordered. He needed the vipers to harass the raiders from the sides, without engaging them into a close quarter dogfight. He needed to keep them away from the wall of bullets the ten battlestars were spitting at tremendous speed.

He watched the Cylon baseships as they entered weapons range as well. He waited a few seconds more, until they were clearly inside the reach of the gunships' heavy railguns. For some reason though, he had the feeling that the baseships were not pushing forth as he thought the aggressive Cylons usually did. Still, he couldn't wait any longer. "Gunships are to open fire."

They did, the twelve gunships in the fleet, beginning to spit heavy railgun slugs at the two closest baseships as fast as the weapons allowed it. The Cylons returned their fire from their railguns only seconds later, with a hailstorm of missiles erupting the next instant.

"Battlestars five through ten are to switch their cover fire. I want those missiles intercepted. The rest, keep firing on the raiders." He turned to his XO. "How is our position?"

"Almost perfect, sir," the XO replied.

"And how long until the raptors jump in?" The fleet's position was very important, as the plan was for a hundred plus raptors to jump immediately behind the Cylons and immediately begin harassing them from that side. But for that to succeed, they had needed to predict the position of the Cylon fleet. That meant that they needed the Cylons to come to them, in the exact position where they wanted them to be.

And apparently, it had worked.

"One minute, sir."

Nagala watched the clock, showing it had been almost nine minutes since they had jumped. There was still no Cylon ship showing any signs of severe damage. He hoped that would change soon, once the raptors engaged them from behind.

The CIC shook, as a missile passed through their railguns screening them. The Columbia can take it, Nagala thought.

"Raptors have jumped in. They are behind the Cylons, exactly where we planned them to emerge, sir."

"Good, now is time to add more fire," he said as he watched the raptors began spitting missiles. They had all been armed with nuclear ordinance. "All ships, fire nukes at-"

"Sir, the Cylons are jumping!"

"Belay the last order! What's going on, XO?"

"Sir, baseships have jumped away and raiders are following?"

This wasn't what Nagala thought would happen. He was more of the opinion the Cylons would call for reinforcements than retreat, or at least try to repel the attack with the ships they had here.

However, he wasn't about to complain either.

* * *

Aboard one of the twelve Cylon baseships, currently several light years from the Cyrannus system, the group of six Cylon models stood around the command table.

"You think we waited long enough?" Four asked.

"They were starting to launch nukes at us. If we waited any longer before jumping, there was a chance of one of our ships sustaining damage and being unable to jump away. It is better this way," Three replied.

"I agree," Five said.

"I still don't see the need for such subterfuge. We should have brought more ships and smashed their feeble fleet," One added.

"We couldn't be certain they were not ready to bring more, the same way as they brought the raptors behind us. Besides, our goal is not to face them head on in battle. There are too many variables to be certain we would come out of it victorious, and especially not when such an opportunity presents itself." One was always the one to oppose their decisions, and Six was really starting to feel fed up with him.

"I still don't see this plan as anything special, or that it will work at all," One replied.

"If we return in force three days from the elections and conquer Caprica again, Adar will lose face and with it the presidency, and he won't have enough time to do a thing. And once a Cylon wins the elections and becomes the newly elected president, they are frakked," Six retorted.

"The plan is sound, but I'm still uncertain that she will do whatever we want her to do. She doesn't even know she's one of the Final Five!" Two replied.

"The fact that she doesn't know she's a Cylon – _yet!_ – changes nothing. Preservation will make her do what we want, even if she isn't willing. We can force her to do whatever we want by simply threatening to expose her to the Colonials for what she is if she opposes us. What's important is that we attack Caprica at the right moment, so that Adar loses enough votes," Three said.

"Agreed," Six added. "What are we going to do about the president's press conference stating that soon they'll have made some revolutionary discovery that will shift the war in their favor?"

"Do we believe this scientist, Desai, has succeeded in discovering something?" Four asked.

"We know the Expeditionary Fleet has stumbled upon an alien craft, possibly Terran, and that has given them an insight into technology above our current understanding," Three said, shaking her head. "But most of the alien craft is still with the Expeditionary Fleet, and it has been less than three weeks since they received the data or any component they could study. This to me sounds more like one of Adar's stunts before the elections than something they could have come up with in such a short time. From the press conference it seems they are ready to go into production of whatever they have developed, and that's impossible. Nobody can develop something that revolutionary so quickly."

"I agree, it sounds impossible and too perfectly timed before the elections to be true," Six replied, thoughtful. "But, can we risk it? Maybe it is only a stunt to get more votes, but we should still check it. One of my models is on Picon. She should be able to verify if there's some truth to these claims of this sudden, revolutionary discovery that will shift the tide of the war."

Four was nodding. "I agree with you, we should find out, but she must be careful. The Colonials already know about the Two model, and we had to use Boomer to deliver the Terran prisoner. We must not allow them to find out about another model."

"She'll be careful," Six replied. "Now, I think the central hub needs to be informed of these very important developments with all due haste."

One turned toward Six and saw her looking at him. She was smiling. "I do not believe there's such a need for haste. We can send a Centurion to deliver the data."

"Now-now, One, you know that sending a Centurion to the central hub will take almost a week. By then, the information will be old news. It would be stupid of us to delay the delivery of such important information… when we have a faster method."

One was angry. "I do not like this arrangement in which I'm the only delivery boy. We should revise the arrangement."

"We can revise it, but the votes will not change. It was unanimous the last time. Well, unanimous except for your vote, of course," Six said, smiling wickedly. "So, I don't think there's any reason to delay it any further, don't you think?"

One was steaming. "Fine! But I protest. Who the hell even got the '_brilliant'_ idea to use resurrection as a method for long range communication?" he asked sarcastically.

"You did, or rather, one of your models did."

"Crap!" One sighed. He slowly took out his gun, the one he kept behind his back, before pointing it to his temple and blowing his head off.

* * *

"I don't know what to tell you, Madam Vice President. The only thing I know is that I don't want to see the Asgard any time soon. We still have no clue how they managed to shut down 90 percent of our systems, and much less how they managed to talk to us through meters of bulkheads and miles of vacuum in space, _without_ using speakers. People are frightened too, with practically horror stories wandering the halls. Some are even depicting this Thor character as some vengeful God. Somebody even drew a portrait of him holding some kind of hammer lashing thunder. Frankly, I have no clue where they get these ideas."

"Do you think that we made an enemy back there? Or maybe even two?" Roslin asked. Once the Galactica had returned and she'd got the full story of what had transpired, she simply couldn't believe what Adama had told her. First, she couldn't believe about some pyramidal ship being impossible to destroy, then about the Terran ship actually being able to destroy it and then about the appearance of a massive silver ship that supposedly belonged to an unknown race called the Asgard. And all that, mixed together with the incredibly stupid, and somebody could argue insane, actions of Admiral Cain, and lastly, as the cherry on the cake, with Sylus actually advocating for taking the Terran ship by force, which, Adama had correctly surmised, had intentionally been meant for Cain to hear him so she wouldn't have changed her mind.

She didn't know what to think.

"Well, I'll put it like this. We didn't make any friends there, and that's a fact. In his message, Thor stated that the Terrans had asked him to show leniency, which would indicate two things. That for reasons I don't get, the Terrans, let's say, protected us against repercussions, even though I'm not sure if I would have done the same if I were in their place, not after what Cain had done, and second, it means that the Asgard have no misgivings about going to war against all of us. And I'm saying all of us, because I got the clear impression that they meant going to war against all of the Colonies. So, I really would like to stay clear of these Asgard for the time being, whoever they are. To tell you the truth, that Thor character scared the living shit out of me. There was something strange in his voice, something... nonhuman. Gah! I really don't know how to better describe it than this."

Roslin listened intently at the vivid recollection of what appeared to have been a very traumatic experience for the Admiral. He possibly had even forgotten with whom he was speaking because never before she'd heard the Admiral say things like 'scared the living shit out of me' in her presence. She didn't mind though. It was better for her to know the whole truth of what had transpired and even what Adama thought of the Asgard than getting some embellished version. He'd also understood the exact message the Asgard had delivered with their little show of unimaginable power.

In short: _Kowtow bitches! The Asgard are here!_

Roslin shook her head. They were now swamped with even more problems, even more than they already were a few days ago. "What do we do with the Pegasus?"

Adama broke from his thoughts, now clearly thinking about the question he had just been asked. "For the Pegasus, I need somebody in charge that I can thrust. The crew there is still too loyal to Cain for my liking."

"Anyone in mind who could fill the spot?"

"Apollo."

"Your son?"

"He's ready and frankly I have no one else better suited for the job. There could be problems since he's my son, but if he manages to make the Pegasus' crew trust him, like he had done as CAG with the viper pilots, I think we can pull it off."

"If you think it best, I won't oppose you. And what about Cain?"

Adama sighed. "Don't know."

"I do."

"You do, Madam Vice President?"

"Well, first we need to evaluate if she's insane, but if she isn't, I think we need to put her on trial."

"On trial? Here?"

"Yes. Too many people in the Fleet know what happened, and if we do nothing, it could look like a cover up by the military." The message Thor had delivered had been heard only on the CICs of the various ships present, but word had spread fast, and once they had returned, the rest of the fleet found out exactly what had happened.

"I agree that that's a possibility, but I am not certain if you understand the consequences if she's found guilty."

"I know the consequences. If found guilty, the penalty for what she did is a firing squad."

"It is, Madam Vice President, and in time of war the execution is carried out immediately. It won't happen after we get back home, _if _we ever get back home."

"I understand, but we have to think about the peace in the fleet, and by now everyone knows about the Asgard message and what Cain did. Besides, she will be judged by a jury of her peers, as she should."

"Which means we have to assemble a military tribunal, judges, jury... I don't like it. Who would be the judge? And please don't say I because that's not going to happen."

"No, not you. It must be someone who's not directly involved in the events that led to Cain's arrest. You'd be called to testify anyway. I think the captain of the Columbia is a lawyer, isn't he?"

Adama thought about Captain Larsen and he did remember something about him being a lawyer, or maybe even a judge before returning to full active duty. "Possibly even a judge, but can't be sure."

"And the jury would be members from the military who were not there, which means officers from the Columbia and the two gunships give us our possible pool of candidates."

"This could actually work, but we first must make sure she isn't insane. Not sure we have a shrink in the fleet."

"What about the Galactica's doctor?"

"Ah well, if we use him she'll turn out to be insane, that's a guarantee. He thinks we are all insane anyway!"

"Well, there must be some psychiatrist in the entire fleet. We will find one," Roslin said, remaining pensive for a moment. "What do you think about the raptor and the crew's story?"

Adama sighed. "I don't know, but they are still on latrine duty, true or not true." He had to punish them for what had happened, even though they'd come up with an excuse for why they were late. They were checking the system, when they noticed the pyramidal ship coming in sight from the other side of the planet and they engaged their jump drive instantly. The jump should have taken them closer to the rendezvous point with the rest of the fleet, but that hadn't happened. Instead, they'd ended up in the opposite direction by having crossed no less than 124 light years, in a single jump. And everybody knows a raptor cannot jump 124 light years. And yet, the raptor's logs showed that, indeed, they'd made the jump and all the jumps that it had taken them to return back. "I'm still of the opinion that they falsified the logs somehow."

"What about the star system they found? From the images they've brought back, it could be Kobol."

"It could, and we will check it out, but this whole story doesn't smell right. They jumped a ridiculous distance, for _any_ ship, and they ended up straight inside a system with a habitable planet in it that could end up being Kobol itself."

* * *

Unknown to Adama and Roslin, two invisible people stood in the room with them, watching intently their discussion. Suddenly, to the two invisible people, time had frozen in place, with Roslin and Adama locked in the middle of their argument, unmoving. It was the ability of beings such as them to accelerate their perception at will. Time didn't stop or slowed down. They just perceived it at a different rate.

The imaginary Six was the first to speak. "Finally! I was starting to dread they wouldn't go there."

"You have risked too much this time. Guidance is one thing and direct interference is another. If the others find out, there will be grave repercussions," the imaginary Gaius replied.

"They won't. They are too busy thinking about the Ori to pay any attention to this region of space."

"I wouldn't be so certain if I were you. Oma always seems distracted by one project or the other, but I can guarantee you, she watches over all those she helped ascend constantly, us included. And if we are caught, we are putting her in a very bad situation too."

Six was pensive. Talking to those from the lower plane was one of those _walking-the-line_ things that were not allowed but treated as only minor infractions. However, having manipulated events in the lower plane by having sabotaged the jump drive of a raptor so that they would find Kobol, that was the _you-have-crossed-the-line_ kind of infractions that got you expelled, permanently and with no recourse.

And no memories left.

"Fine! I won't do it again, but these Terrans are starting to piss me off! Their meddling has changed everything and guidance alone won't be enough to repair the damage."

"From the moment the Terrans found out about the existence of the Colonies, we knew that was the most probable outcome. Even what they are doing now is out of their character. Usually, they just storm in like cowboys, blow up a star or something similar and consequences be damned. At least here, they are reticent because they have other enemies to worry about. I dread the moment when they won't have other enemies to think about. I also wish they paid more attention to the Vargas and less to the Colonies and let us deal... ugh... I meant, guide them to their predestined future."

Six had an annoyed look, again. This was not going as it should be going. The Terrans should not have interfered with the perpetual cycle of destruction and rebirth, not until the Colonials and Cylons finally learned their lesson on their own. But, the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the cycle would be broken this time, whatever the end result would end up to be. "I don't know. I don't see a positive outcome from all of this."

"There is still a chance. In this cycle they haven't destroyed their worlds. It could be a good thing," Gaius said, full of hope, but he immediately noticed the frown on Six's face. "I know, I know, they are still set on their ways. Well, we will have to wait and see."

"I'm not good at waiting, and we still have to do something about Hera."

"And what can we possibly do? Sharon and Agathon are still on Caprica, fighting for their survival. How are we supposed to transfer _them_ to the Expeditionary Fleet, and you know what I said about directly influencing events."

Six was smiling mischievously. "Well..."

Gaius sighed, shoulders dropping. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"Well, the Cylons are the only one with a jump drive fast enough to reach the Expeditionary Fleet, and you _should_ be able to convince a certain Cylon on what needs to be done. A certain Six. Maybe she can provide the necessary transportation method, like a heavy raider perhaps."

"Umm... I don't know."

"Hey! I risked a lot to get them back on track towards Kobol! The least you can do is go talk to her!"

"Oh, fine, I'll go. No, need to yell at me," Gaius said, meekly, but then he noticed the threatening look he was receiving. "You mean now?"

"No, I meant two years from now." She was starting to use sarcasm, which was never a good sign.

Imaginary Gaius understood that as well, quickly turning into a full-blown ascended being, with tentacles spreading out of his core. He sped away like a bullet. There was no point in talking to her when she was in such a mood anyway.

She followed suit shortly afterwards.

* * *

"It doesn't sound right to me either, but maybe it is providence at work," Roslin replied. She didn't buy it either, but when you don't have a single shred of evidence on what was really going on, wild theories or the belief in a higher power being at work suddenly became a very normal way of thinking. It was how humans coped with the unexplainable and with their need to try to explain everything, she thought.

Even the unexplainable.

"After everything that has happened, with flying pyramids, a strange ring millions of years old and everything else, I wouldn't put past it if there are other _beings_ capable of messing with the raptor's jump drive, suddenly sending it exactly where Kobol is," Adama retorted.

Roslin chuckled, "Okay that does sound ridiculous! Where did you come with that?"

"I don't know, but I don't have a logical explanation on how, in the vastness of space, a raptor can jump 124 light-years and end up straight in a star system in which there's a strong possibility that Kobol is. For one, such jump can't be random, that's simply impossible, and second, I don't believe in providence."

"I understand, but still, _beings_ capable of sending a raptor where they want at a whim? That sounds even less possible."

Adama sighed, "You're probably right. I just don't like not knowing what's going on, and we really don't know anything of the galaxy, do we?"

Roslin was pensive for a moment. It was true that the more they ventured into the galaxy, the more they realized how little they knew. There was no point even in replying to his question, so she decided to change the subject. "What are you planning to do next?"

"Next, I have to deal with two very unpleasant matters."

"Oh? And what would those unpleasant matters be?"

"First, I must start an investigation into finding out why somebody would execute a priest."

"You mean the priest I heard was found dead on Cloud Nine?"

"Yes, and it was only luck one of Galactica's crew was on Cloud Nine and stumbled in that specific corridor at the right time. If he hadn't, the priest would have ended up in space, thrown out an airlock. I get people are nervous, but executing a priest… doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't. No matter how people are afraid at the moment, killing a priest doesn't solve anything. What's the other matter you need to deal with?"

Adama sighed, again. He was doing it a lot lately. "I need to speak with a certain marine. I postponed the matter as long as I could."

Roslin chuckled. "You mean, talk to the marine who tossed Sylus off the CIC. I hear he's spending most of his free time with the pilots and his buddies, drunk like a skunk."

"Drunk? Why would he need to drink?"

"Oh, he doesn't. It is that everybody is buying him drinks."

"They are, aren't they? Where do you hear these stories?"

"Let just say that I have a very good assistant that's always in the right place at the right time," Roslin replied, thinking about her assistant returning half-drunk after he himself went to buy a drink to the marine.

"Well, I still need to explain a few things to him, so that similar incidents don't happen in the future. He can't react so literally to my orders."

Roslin smiled. "Uh-huh. And you'll tell me next that you didn't feel a sense of utter joy when Sylus – how do you say it in the military – went airborne and flew out of the CIC."

"I will not, and cannot say that, but I'm an Admiral, and I must set the example for the crew. I can't go and buy the guy a drink, no matter how much I'd like to."

"Well, I'll go in search for a certified psychiatrist to see what she says about Cain. In the meantime, you should start making a list of possible candidates for the military tribunal," Roslin said just as they came to an intersection.

Adama stopped. "I will, Madam Vice President." He nodded and then proceeded through the left corridor alone, while the vice president went in the opposite direction.

* * *

_**Please leave a review, they are always appreciated.**_


	14. Anomalies

**Author's note: **It took me more time than planned to write this chapter. However, the positive side is that the chapter has turned out much longer than initially planned, almost as long as two chapters.

**Reviews:**

**Guest: **I'll try, but it's not easy coming up with plots that have the Asgard and the Colonials together, and still keep with thee main plot-line I have in mind.

**Epi: **It appears the Colonials would greatly benefit from some guidance. Hopefully, they will learn there are threats in the galaxy that need to be treated with the respect they deserve. For the marine, well, he's still more useful as an incognito agent.

**David Archerfish: **Adama will not be the judge in the trial, but for the rest I'm not sure. I mean, even if the Colonials have a similar law, special circumstances should apply here. When a law is written, not all circumstances are envisioned, certainly not the Fleet being far a way and possibly years from returning home. If she couldn't be judged because there are no high ranking officers in the Fleet, there's another problem then. She has the right to a trial, and she is innocent until proven otherwise. Therefore, they shouldn't keep her imprisoned indefinitely either, which means they should free her if unable to. Also, if they were to look at the law alone, then in the show Baltar shouldn't have been on trial since there was no real judge in the Fleet.

The solution could be Adama promoting a Commander to the rank of Rear Admiral and place him as the judge in her trial, or maybe a demotion for Cain before the trial. On the other hand, in time of war I think the highest ranking officer can decide to simply execute her for what she did, even without a trial... I think.

**Chatokay:** If I wrote NID, it was probably a typo.

**tco99123:** Possible, I really don't remember such details from the show. It was a long time ago when I watched it last. There will possibly be small changes in order to combine the two universes. Sometimes it is necessary to make the story more balanced and interesting.

_**Thanks to my beta and hope you'll like this chapter too.**_

* * *

_You need something stolen, he is your man. _

_You need certainty the job will be done right, he guarantees success. _

_You need anonymity, he will tell no one. _

_They call him… __Shadow._

* * *

Sitting in a darkly lit back of a stolen shuttle, wearing a tight dark suit, Shadow thought about the job ahead. His employer wanted the job done, wanted certainty and wanted it done fast. Only four days he'd had to plan the heist. Not enough to prepare right, not enough if he wanted to be certain he could deliver or that he wouldn't get caught. For such a heist, he needed to canvas the area, find a way in, get the necessary access codes, find the building's blueprints, know how many security guards there were on the night's shift and their detailed schedule, and above all to be sure he could flee the scene before the police showed up. Any of these preparatory steps not done properly and he would end up with his reputation of being the perfect thief ruined, or worse, caught or dead. Four days were too little to be certain, and he had told her so, many times, but she was so insistent, so unwilling to accept no for an answer.

And she was very persuasive.

The tall woman, with curly honey blonde hair, Lida her name, wasn't accepting no for an answer, no matter how many times he'd told her he couldn't do it in only four days. The problem was that she was also very good in the art of making a man do what she wanted, even when he really should have declined the offered job and left on the spot. The night they'd spent together and the possibility of more such nights to follow, once he'd delivered what she had asked, was enough to make him say yes. The money was great, twice his usual fee, but that wasn't that important to him, not with this particular client. He would have done it for less, much less if just to be with her again, at least one more time.

Thankfully, his connections had allowed him to quickly get his hands on the building's blueprints, not something that easy to obtain, at least not for one of the high security Graystone labs, but for the right amount of money, even such blueprints were available on the black market, and she was paying all the extra expenses, no matter how steep, so, what did he care how expensive those blueprints were?

The building had three access points. The first one, the main entrance, was out of the question. Too many guards watching it, and even if he could somehow fool them into thinking he was one of the scientists, authorized to enter the building, he would still need to pass the metal detector and a thorough inspection. He would end up being caught before passing the lobby.

The second entrance was a cargo door on the back of the building they used to load and unload shipments. It was a much better option than the main entrance, but still not a feasible one. The building was surrounded by an electrified fence, which wasn't such a problem if it weren't for the complete camera coverage all around the building. The cameras would detect even the smallest movement inside the perimeter and report it to security before he could cut through the fence, much less have the necessary time to reach the back door and bypass the state-of-the-art security system installed there. He would be surrounded with security personnel in mere seconds, with the police only a few minutes behind.

With the first two options out of the question, the third was the only one he could use with any hope of succeeding in this high risk, very high reward job.

The door of the shuttle began opening. He quickly raised from his seat and moved in front of them. As the door fully opened, he waited for the signal that came only seconds later. He jumped into the darkness, at an altitude of more than ten thousand feet.

Dropping like a rock, Shadow watched the helmet's internal display showing the exact location of his intended target, the roof of the Graystone lab. Thankfully, this night's weather was working in his favor, with almost no wind. He had to make small corrections only a few times if he were to land on the building.

His altitude was dropping fast. Ten thousand feet, quickly became nine, then eight, until he finally reached one thousand feet. A few more seconds and he needed to open his chute, or he would end up plastered on the quickly approaching concrete. Too soon, and his decent would last too long and somebody could spot him.

At five hundred feet, the chute opened, harshly pulling him upwards. His speed was still fast, too fast, and he was slightly off course. He needed to act quickly. Maneuvering his two cords, he pointed the chute in the right direction, his speed steadily decreasing, almost as quickly as the ground was coming towards him.

The landing hadn't been as graceful as he had hoped for, but he'd landed on the roof and he was in one piece - everything else was secondary at this moment. He quickly detached the chute, folding it in less than twenty seconds and stuffing it below a venting pipe. He only needed it not to fly off the roof and end up in front of one of the patrolling security guards.

Quickly, he made his way to roof's door, the only way off the roof. The door had a keypad. He took out one of the tools of his trade, the one that would allow him to bypass the keypad's locking mechanism. Or maybe not, if the information about the security system the Graystone was employing was incorrect. If the keypad was of a different model, this would result in the worst job ever. He would be stuck on the roof without any way of concluding the job, or even leaving the building.

Stripping off the keypad's frontal panel, he swiftly attached two connectors to the underlying circuitry. The tool he was using had immediately recognized the connection and had begun cycling through the many possible combinations. It was a brute force approach and it would take time, but four days hadn't been enough to get his hands on some working codes. While the dangling device was doing its thing, he began checking his inventory and seeing if his suit had sustained some damage. In his line of work, the worst he could do was to assume everything was in perfect order. His suit appeared to be intact, and the internal oxygen levels were showing fifty more minutes of available air. This was good, if he needed more time than that, it would mean the mission was a failure anyway. He then took out a datapad. He had memorized the building schematics, but since he had time while the tool was working on breaking the keypad's access code, why not check it again. He scrolled the image the datapad was showing, following on the screen the exact route he needed to take in order to reach the ventilation system. He was satisfied with the route, it wasn't that distant, and the chance of stumbling on a guard was small.

The tool chirped. It had found the right code. He pressed a button on the little device, and the door happily clicked open, with the keypad displaying a very welcoming green sign. He quickly put the tool and datapad in his backpack, the part of it left after he had detached the chute, put it on his back and entered the building. Silently walking down the stairs, he made his way to the top most floor. Here, the tedious part would have to be done. He slowly proceeded down the last few stairs, leaning on the wall as much as he could. The camera on this floor was pointing downward, monitoring if somebody came up the stairs, but he still needed to be careful not to get caught in its field of view. Reaching the end of the stairs he glanced upward, intently looking at the only wire protruding from the camera. He took a small device, opened it, wrapped it around the protruding wire, and clicked it shut, piercing the signal's cable. If everything was as it should, the small device should stop the camera's signal, and instead show the same last image of when he had attached it. If not, guards would be here very soon.

No guards had rushed his way, which meant that everything was fine, for now. He proceeded down to the next floor, doing the same with the camera there, and same again with all of the following floors, until he'd reached the floor where the ventilation system was located. Exiting the staircase and entering the nearby room, he first attached another tool to the ventilation unit. The system was a good one. The unit would easily detect any unwanted gasses he'd introduce in the ventilation system and it would quickly sound an alarm, and he couldn't allow that to happen. Instead, the tool he had attached was meant to update the unit's detection software by installing a version of his own, one that wouldn't detect any of the gas' elements he was about to release.

The tool chirped cheerfully, notifying him it had concluded the software update. He opened a small hatch on the ventilation unit, took out the pin on the blank canister he'd taken out from the backpack, and tossed it inside. Then, he manipulated the unit to start pumping air in the building on overdrive. If everything went as it should, the gas should knock out anyone in the building in less than five minutes. He quickly glanced at his suit's left wrist, displaying that he had thirty-two more minutes of available air. He needed to conclude his business here before he went out of clean air. He waited the needed five minutes impatiently, hoping the gas had done his job. If it hadn't, the situation would become very tricky.

Leaving the ventilation room, he rushed up a flight of stairs, and exited through the door leading to the fourth floor. So far so good. There were no guards in the corridor. Quickly, he moved south through the corridor, then left through another one until he'd reached a door. He attached a sensitive listening device on the door, trying to hear if there were voices coming from the other side. There were none. He tried to open the door but it was locked, with the same keypad he had overridden on the roof standing on the left side and flashing red. He took out the same tool he had used before, again trying to force the combination.

It took another five minutes for the tool to find the right combination, but the important thing was that it did and now he was inside the security room, staring at two very unconscious guards leaning on the consoles in front of them. They were knocked out cold and they would stay that way for at least a few hours. Moving the two guards aside, Shadow glanced at the several monitors showing the various corridors the cameras were pointed at. Everyone in the building was knocked out cold, but outside of the building it was a completely different story. There were several guards patrolling the perimeter and they would sooner or later report their status over their comm, which they couldn't do because everyone inside was unconscious and unable to answer. He needed to hurry. He accessed the system through a console, deleting all video footages of the day. Then he shut down all cameras, those monitoring the inside of the building as well as those pointing to the outside. He then went back, the same way as he'd come to the stairs and made his way one floor up. On this floor, he needed to access the mainframe, the one containing the data he needed to retrieve.

Reaching the room where the mainframe was, he took out an access card and swiped it in front of the keypad. The card belonged to a scientist he had paid a visit this afternoon. The scientist was very complacent, giving him the card and his personal access codes he'd need to access the mainframe with very little persuasion needed on his part. The door clicked open and he proceeded inside the large room. The mainframe and the console he needed to use were in the middle of the room. He stepped in front of the console, swiftly typing the scientist's username and password.

He had achieved access to the mainframe.

Scrolling through the various directories, he quickly found what he was looking for, the blueprints for the newly developed plasma weapon. He inserted the external drive he'd come with and instructed the system to make a copy of the data. Two minutes and it was over. He changed directory and found the blueprints for the fusion reactor the Graystone scientists were working on. He clicked to open it, and to his annoyance, the system informed him that he didn't have the necessary authorization. The scientist he had gotten the access codes from didn't have the authorization to access that particular project. This was a problem, one he wouldn't be able to solve. He certainly didn't have hours to try to bypass the Graystone mainframe's security protocols.

Shadow sighed. Well, half job done was better than nothing, and he had only fifteen more minutes to bail out of the building. Nothing he could do about that.

With the security system down and the guards unconscious, he ran to the staircase, quickly making his way down to the ground floor. He made his way to the rear of the building and toward the large cargo door, his exit strategy. Working on the door's mechanism, he achieved freedom in less than five minutes. Or at least that would have been the case if on the other side there weren't a slightly startled guard, staring straight at the opening door, and at him.

Shadow was fast, pulling out his gun in an instant and shooting the guard, but he hadn't been fast enough. The startled guard had put his stupor aside in a blink of an eye and took out his own gun, much faster than Shadow thought the guard would have been able to. The guard dropped on the floor with a smoking hole in his chest, but Shadow was feeling dizzy too. The guard had shot him in the left side of his abdomen. His luck had apparently run out, and he knew it happened only because he had rushed this job. There was not much time. He needed to get away, and fast. There were at least two more guards somewhere, and even though his gun had a silencer, the guard's gun didn't. They would be upon him soon.

With difficulty and by trying to forget about the pain he was feeling, Shadow made his way to the electrified fence. He took out another canister, for a moment glancing around to see if there were any guards in eyesight, before quickly spraying it on the fence. The strong acid burned through the wire-framed fence and in less than a minute, a large hole formed.

Freedom, the thought crossed his mind, at the same time as another shot rang. The guard hadn't aimed right. The guard had made a cardinal mistake, one that would cost him his own life. Shadow quickly spun around, took aim and sent three bullets flying in the direction of the quickly approaching, gun blazing guard. Two bullets connected and the guard dropped dead. Through pain, Shadow turned again and moved through the hole in the fence. He wasn't about to wait for the third guard to show up. Half running half walking, he made his way away from the Graystone building and toward the getaway car he had parked earlier this evening. He reached it, entered inside, and sped away as fast as he could.

Now, the only question was, if he would be able to reach safety before the wound killed him.

* * *

"Lida's mission was a partial success," Caprica said to the assorted group of three other Cylons.

"Partial? What does partial mean?" Three asked.

"She was able to acquire _some_ of the work done by this Doctor Desai. With only four days, the access codes the thief was able to use were not enough to access all of the projects we were interested in," Caprica replied.

"That's not good. Can she try again?" One asked.

"No, the thief was badly injured and now Graystone will certainly increase their security," Caprica said, thinking about something. "However, I think we should go straight to the source, which is why I already ordered Lida to act accordingly."

"To the source? You mean the scientist?" Four asked.

"Yes. We gained some very useful data, but we need to get our hands on the source of that data and force him to work for us. From the data we've acquired, we know that the scientist was able to make incredible strides in a very short time. Almost miraculous strides if you ask me." Caprica had gone through the blueprints of the plasma weapon, and it was remarkable work. Work no one else had ever even hinted at, ever before. If they could get their hands on the scientist, they would be the ones capable of quickly gaining the upper hand in this war, rather than the Colonials.

"You said that you have instructed Lida to act accordingly. What does that mean exactly?"

"The thief isn't the only one who she has contacts with. She is already planning to storm the scientist's new place of residence with a group of hired thugs," Caprica replied.

"Is that smart?" Four asked. "Why does she have to participate, instead of leaving the thugs to do the job alone? She would be much less exposed if she were not to participate."

"She would, but she informed me that she doesn't trust them, not as much as she has trusted the thief. She wants to make sure the scientist isn't harmed during the operation, and that the hired help won't double cross her afterwards - maybe by deciding to find another buyer for the newly acquired and unique commodity. There are many research companies that would be interested in having the scientist in their hands, companies ready to pay big money, and hired thugs are known for how easily they can decide to change loyalties."

"I still don't like it," Three added. "There is a high probability of the scientist's security detail getting doubled, as a direct result of the theft of his work. She could get captured."

"I realized that, and that's why I acted so quickly. She should kidnap the scientist in a few hours. I don't believe they'll be able to augment the mansion's security until then. Lida has also taken this possibility into account and she has hired many more thugs for the job. I don't think they are expecting such an assault, and certainly not so soon after the theft in the lab." Caprica was of the opinion that Lida would succeed. She was also of the opinion that that would be the final nail in Adar's coffin. "You should also think of the reward. Not only will we get our hands on their top scientist, but if Adar loses his big star, and after he loses Caprica tomorrow, he will be ridiculed, becoming the man who wasn't capable of protecting neither Caprica, nor the scientist who he had proclaimed as their best chance of winning this war. Adar will be over, and Foster will be elected as their new president."

Caprica noticed as, this time at least, even One was nodding in approval. It was a rare occurrence, almost one unheard of. "Let's hope the plan will succeed. This could really be the final blow to the Colonies. Is everything ready for the _re_-occupation of Caprica?"

"It is. We have three times more ships than the Colonials currently have in orbit, and we will have the element of surprise on our side," Caprica replied.

"Well, I'm glad to see the tide of this war is clearly turning in our favor," Three said, thinking. "However, I'm perplexed about the news One has delivered from the Expeditionary Fleet."

Caprica shrugged, noticing that the others had done the same, almost in unison. "Are we _sure_ One hasn't just gone completely insane. I mean, even more than usual. We know the new way of FTL communication can have side effects." She always knew there was something wrong with the One models, but they were still more or less functional lunatics. However, the last time they had revived one of them in the resurrection hub, he had begun shouting about a flying space pyramid, unbeatable by anything the Colonials had thrown at it, adding the fact that a much smaller – supposedly Terran in origin – ship had somehow managed to blow it in millions of tiny pieces. And to top it all, some new race that were calling themselves the Asgard had shown up with a massive ship that, from One's words, would appear powerful enough to blow planets with ease and apparently capable of, somehow, magically shutting down all systems on the Colonial ships, without anyone having even a clue on how they'd done it. One also mentioned the Colonials were scared shitless of this new and completely unknown race. If even a fraction of what One had reported were true, she could easily understand why they were scared. _They_ should be scared too, but first they needed to make sure that One was telling the truth, rather than being on some new hallucinogenic drug, or worse, finally having gone completely bonkers and starting to imagine pyramidal ships flying around and new aliens wherever he looked. With One, you simply never knew.

"I resent your implication of my model being insane," One replied angrily.

"Uh-huh, sure. Thus far your model has shown impeccable sanity, we all know _that_," Caprica replied, sarcasm dripping, while the others were snickering at One's expense. "You tell _me_ what you think of what your double has told us."

One was reluctant to reply. "I admit, his story is a very strange one, but, in truth, it would be _insane_ to discard it just because of the source. I am also confident that any one of my model would have kept his mouth shut and said nothing, if it were only a figment of his imagination."

In a strange way, that had actually been a very sane answer, Caprica had to admit it to herself. "You have a point there. We shouldn't discard the information just because of who relayed it."

"Exactly, and I would also like to change the policy of who the delivery boy between us should be from now on."

"We already discussed this, and rejected your proposal."

"But now there's a new element, a very important one. You do not trust the source of the information, which means somebody else should be the one delivering messages. Maybe the Six model? Everybody would believe a Six, wouldn't they?"

Caprica glanced around, and she didn't like what she was seeing on the faces of Three and Four. They were clearly thinking about it. "Now is not the time to discuss this. We have more important matters that need our complete attention. Like what we are going to do if we believe this new information to be truthful."

"The reality is that we have known there are other races in the galaxy for quite some time now. The galaxy doesn't hold only the Colonials and the Cylons, but others as well. The Terrans were the first to appear, and the Expeditionary Fleet's discovery of an alien space craft has shown us that there are more, especially since we can be confident that the ship they found is completely different from how the Terran ship looks like, hence at least two races are out there. Then the pyramidal ship appears and the Asgard, which means at least one more race, if not two. We are starting to pile up races people. We are definitely not alone in this galaxy." Three summarized.

"The positive side is that it appears this Asgard are on the Terrans side, and since they are an offshoot of the Thirteenth Colony, hence Cylons, we could find allies in them," Four added.

"I don't know. This entire situation sounds strange to me, and very confusing. The Terrans have shown no interest in making contact with us or with the Colonials, which doesn't make any sense. Even if they hadn't known they are Cylons, they should at least have contacted the Colonials, if not us. We now know their ship is powerful, which means they could have joined the war, on whatever side they wanted, and could have ended it already. I don't think it would have taken more than a dozen of their ships for a decisive victory, no matter on which side they'd have sided on." Three replied

"True, but from what One told us, there's a good chance the Terrans are facing some other enemy. We must not forget the pyramidal ship. They were clearly enemies of the Terrans, which means they could have other, more immediate threats they need to deal with first, before they can join our war." Caprica added.

"You may be right. With the technology they have shown, we must feel like small fish to them. In their eyes, we are most certainly looking too weak and unable to help them in _their_ war. They probably don't see any positive reason for joining our war," Three replied.

"This sounds frightening. If the Terrans and their friends the Asgard are not joining because they have a war of their own to fight, and with what they'd shown to have at their disposal, I dread to think of what kind of enemy they are facing. And yet, this seems to me as the only logical explanation to what's happening," Four reluctantly admitted.

"I think we can spend the entire day discussing about this and come to no satisfactory conclusion. I think we should focus more on what we can influence and less on what we cannot," One interjected abruptly into the conversation.

Caprica realized how One's suggestion was a good one. They didn't know anything about the Asgard, or those on board the destroyed pyramidal ship. Nothing positive could come out of discussing it for any longer, not with so little information at their disposal. "Right, so, let us deal with the Colonials first, and leave other possible races in the galaxy for a later discussion. After Foster is put into Office, we will have time to think about pyramidal ships and this Asgard race. In seventeen hours, the assault will commence. Let's make the last preparations, and see if we can improve our odds even further."

* * *

Leaning on the wall near the door leading into the room where the four Cylons were having their latest discussion, the Imaginary Baltar spent his time listening while waiting patiently. Their discussion had lasted longer than he thought it would. Usually the Cylons were very efficient and quick at coming to a conclusion, but he had to admit, they had a lot on their plate, which meant the lengthy discussion was completely understandable. Thankfully though, it had just ended, which meant his task was about to begin.

Still leaning on the wall, he watched as Three, One and Four exited the room first, quickly proceeding further down the corridor without having taken notice of his presence. Six was last to come out, startled the instant she noticed him.

"What do you want?" Caprica replied, acidly.

Baltar sighed. The relationship between the Imaginary Six and the flesh-and-blood Baltar was a much better one than theirs was. He was a much more gullible being than Caprica was, and his ego, constantly telling him that he was special and sort of chosen, was playing in favor of his partner, the Imaginary Six. On the other hand, Caprica wasn't ready to simply admit that he was some invisible higher being that had chosen her for a higher purpose, which had been clear from the first time they met when she tried to punch him. Unsuccessful as her attempt had been, it had still showed to him how their relationship wouldn't be a smooth ride. He'd also started to think that taking the appearance of Baltar might not have been the best choice, but the damage had already been done, and there was no going back. "No need to be so confrontational, Caprica."

"That's your opinion, not mine. Again, what do you want?" Caprica was definitely not happy to see him.

"Fine, let's get to business immediately. I have a task for you."

"Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it. I have other things to worry about at the moment, and whatever you want, it will have to wait," Caprica replied, beginning to move further down the corridor.

"Actually, what I want coincides with one of the things that you're currently preoccupied with. More specifically, the retaking of Caprica," Baltar replied, while following Caprica at a fast pace. If she thought she could escape him by just walking away, she was sadly mistaken. She couldn't escape him even if she knew how to fly.

"Oh no, I'm not stopping the mission. We _will_ retake Caprica."

"I wasn't trying to stop you. On the contrary. In order to complete the task I have in mind for you, you need to retake the planet first."

Caprica stopped. "What task?"

"Two tasks, actually. The first is to find two individuals on the planet and help them escape. The second is to recover a certain Arrow from the Capital and give it to them."

"What? Who are they? And what Arrow?"

"One is a Colonial named Agathon, the other is an Eight model. They are currently together. You also need to recover Athena's Arrow."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because they need to reach the Expeditionary Fleet. On Kobol."

Caprica raised an eyebrow. "Again, and why would I do that?"

"Because the Eight in question is carrying a child, and because Athena's Arrow is needed on Kobol if the Colonials in the Expeditionary Fleet are to find the direction where the Thirteenth Colony's planet is." Baltar was more and more of the opinion that all this was becoming very confusing for Caprica. At least that was what he was getting from Caprica's expression of utter cluelessness.

"An Eight is pregnant? If that is true, why would I turn her into the hands of our enemy? Why not take her to our resurrection hub instead?"

"Because she wouldn't be safe there."

"Why wouldn't she? The ability to procreate is one of our greatest goals. We would never harm her."

"I know it is and I know you wouldn't harm her, but not of all of you think the same."

Caprica didn't reply for a long time. "You mean One?"

"I mean One, and soon Two as well."

"I don't believe you. One yes, he's insane, but Two isn't, and he has always been supportive in finding a way for us to procreate. And even if One is against it, he's only one model. The others would never allow anything to happen to the child."

"First, I said _soon_, which means Two will change his mind in the near future – you really need to pay more attention to what I'm saying, you know – and second, other things will change as well in the near future and One will soon gain more power in the Cylon collective. If the child is in your possession when that happens, the schism that is bound to form between the Cylons will be much worse, possibly devastating. And the child will die as well."

"You're not God! You cannot possibly know what will happen!" Caprica retorted, angrily.

"I never said I was God. However, I do have the ability to perceive possible future events unfolding with incredible accuracy. I will not pretend that I know everything, or that the future is set in stone, but you _must_ believe me when I say that, if the child is taken to the resurrection hub, the most probable outcome is the end of the Cylon race." It was difficult for Baltar to make her believe in what he was saying, especially when his hands were bound, unable to tell her everything.

Caprica was silent, which meant that she was at least thinking about what he had said to her. It was a good sign. "Let's assume for a moment that I believe you, and that the child wouldn't be safe with the Cylons. What makes you believe that the child would be any safer with the Expeditionary Fleet? I do not believe the Colonials would be very happy at seeing an Eight model, not after what Boomer did, and much less one carrying a hybrid child."

"The child will be taken care of and protected. You're not the only one who's been guided."

Again, Caprica's eyebrow rose. "You mean Baltar?"

"I do."

Caprica snorted in derision. "He's an idiot! I wouldn't expect the man to be able to take care of a dog, much less of a child hated by everybody else in their entire Fleet!"

"True, true. For being such a genius, he often behaves like a certified moron. However, with guidance, he'll be able to keep the child safe, I'm very confident of that. Besides, his job won't be to take care of the child. His job will only be to convince the Colonials that it is a good idea to keep the child alive. Taking care of the child will be someone else's job."

"And what 'bout this Arrow you mentioned? Why do they need it?"

"Because they need to find the planet where the Lost Tribe went. They need to discover the truth, the whole truth, and finding that planet and seeing what happened there is important."

"And what is the whole truth?"

"_That_… is for you to discover as well, in time." She definitely didn't like the answer, Baltar thought.

"And all this I'm supposed to accomplish how exactly? Since I have no idea where Kobol is."

"The location of Kobol will be provided to you in time. How you're going to accomplish this task, it is completely up to you, but I would suggest using one of the Heavy Raiders. With the jump coordinates I'll give you, the Raider will be able to reach Kobol quickly enough."

"Fine, but I'm not giving any guarantees. If the others find out, I'll be in trouble, and I can't explain to them that I see an invisible entity telling me what to do, can I?"

"No, you can't, but I'm confident you'll find a way to keep this mission secret. Actually, I prefer if the others weren't aware of this little mission, or of the existence of the child. In time you'll be reunited with the child, if everything goes well."

"What does, if everything goes well mean? I thought you could see the future?"

"I told you that the future is not set in stone. There are many… variables that need to be considered." With the unplanned meddling of the Terrans, the possible futures had blurred out. It was almost impossible to see any clear path with any certainty. At the moment though, that part wasn't that important. Caprica had agreed to do his bidding, and that was all that mattered, for now.

"Please leave. You're confusing and annoying the hell out of me."

"As you wish," Baltar replied, quickly vanishing into thin air.

His job was done anyway.

* * *

Peters was looking at the four monitors standing in front of him half asleep, wishing he were anywhere else except here. The job of an intelligence officer was a boring one most of the time and he cherished the retained memories he had from the time he'd spent with the Expeditionary Fleet. Being an infiltrator in the Fleet had been… _fun_, much more than what he was experiencing right now, while standing in a small apartment and while watching the monitors displaying the mansion where Doctor Robert Desai resided. While in the Expeditionary Fleet, he had spent most of his time with the Colonials who, by all accounts, knew perfectly well how to have a good time. There was of course the little torturing incident he hadn't particularly liked or even liked remembering about it, but the rest, the previous months spent there had been a blast. At least compered to his current boring and tedious job of monitoring a scientist an Asgard Core had flagged as a focal point in an anomalous deterministic event-node in the Prediction Tree. A complicated way for the AI Core to simply state that something very weird was going on with the Colonials, if somebody asked him.

The AI Core, the one that had been dedicated to following events related to the Colonials was capable - through the input of a large amount of relevant data - of determining the most probable paths the Colonials could take. It could predict their most probable technological and societal progression, as well as to determine their most probable future decisions. The created Prediction Tree wasn't perfect and on many occasions reality wouldn't coincide with any of the predicted paths, not perfectly in any case. However, differences could be easily accounted by the introduction of previously unknown and hence unused data, or by simply introducing an uncertainty factor the Asgard Core knew to always exist. Consequently, the Core would simply create a new branch in the Prediction Tree and continue its prediction from there. That was routinely done, at least until some event the Core would deem strongly improbable would occur. When that happened, the Core could not simply create a new branch, since the new path was too incompatible with the previous nodes in the Prediction Tree, which meant the core would do one and one thing only.

The Core would raise a red flag.

Since the Core had detected that such technological jump in the Colonials was too improbable to have occurred, and yet, it somehow _had_, it meant that agents were needed to investigate this event, and since at the root of the anomaly was the dear Doctor Robert Desai, whoever he might be, Peters and another agent had been tasked with the tedious job of keeping an eye on the man. It wasn't glamorous work, but somebody had to do it, and since Peters had been discovered in the Expeditionary Fleet, and yet full of very useful experience in dealing with the Colonials, he'd been chosen as one of the two agents for the job.

Peters stopped thinking about how boring his job was, as he noticed something peculiar on one of the monitors. They had been here for only two days, and hadn't had the time to place more than just a few cameras around the mansion's perimeter – no eyes inside the house yet – but even one of those had been able to catch something out of the ordinary. Somebody had just passed in front of one of the cameras facing the mansion's east side.

"Umm… Luke, are you seeing this?" Peters asked his colleague seating on the chair next to him.

Luke raised his gaze from the datapad he was reading from. "I am now. Is that a weapon?"

Peters saw, as the man on the monitor had turned, how he was carrying an automatic weapon of some kind. "Yup, that's a weapon alright."

"Look, there's another one… and another."

Two more individuals were now in the camera's field of view, and all were packing the same weapon and all were carrying protective vests. "I think the mansion is about to be assaulted."

"You _think_?" Luke replied. "Shouldn't we do something?"

"Do what?" Peters replied. "We're here to monitor the mansion, and nothing more."

"I know, and I don't like it," Luke replied.

"I don't particularly like it either, but we are under orders to stay hidden, remember? Just as if we aren't here."

"Look, the second camera has caught more of them."

Peters glanced at the second monitor, showing more unwanted visitors. Apparently, this was going to be quite a strong assault. Understandable since there were a lot of guards protecting the mansion and the precious scientist in it. "Even more reason for doing nothing. There's enough firepower there to…"

Peters had abruptly stopped talking and Luke had noticed. "What is it?"

"Oh, this is so not good."

"What's not good?"

"Do you see that woman on the second monitor?"

"I do. What about her?"

"She's a Cylon."

"A Cylon? Are you sure?"

"Luke, I was captured by the Cylons, remember? I'm telling you, she's is one of the Cylon models."

"So, what do we do now? We are still under orders not to interfere."

"I know, but I'm not sure that Brian would be very happy if the Colonial scientist, who's apparently capable of developing superior tech, fell into Cylons' hands. We still don't know how _he_ was able to develop energy weapons. Letting the Cylons get their hands on such technology would be bad. Very bad and possibly bordering to catastrophic."

"But how can we prevent it? It isn't like we have an arsenal with us."

Peters thought about it. It was true some firepower would be nice to have, and even more some protective armor, all unavailable to him at the moment. "Granted, an exoskeleton would do nice here, but I should be able to thwart their effort of killing or capturing the scientist even with what I do have here."

"And that's what exactly? A zat-gun?" Luke asked, unsure. "Pretty weak if you ask me."

"True, but I do have the cloaking bracelet we were given to use in case we ever needed to escape." Peters was almost a hundred percent sure it would be enough.

"The cloak doesn't stop bullets, Peters. If they even hint at your location, those automatic weapons will shred you in short order. And you'd be going against both the intruders and the guards. Even by chance you could end up catching a stray bullet."

Peters was already getting the bracelet out of the small case, quickly putting it on his left wrist. He also took the zat-gun and the earpiece. "Once I'm out, I'll need you to be my eyes through the cameras, at least until I'm inside the mansion."

"Oh, I so don't like this." Luke replied. "But I see there's no way I can change your mind, is there?"

"Nope," Peters replied. "Also, start packing. No matter how it goes, this entire block will soon be swarming with police, only minutes after the firefight starts. There's a good chance they'll find the cameras we planted and then start knocking on doors. Once I'm inside the mansion, you get the hell out of here, but first clear anything that doesn't belong on this world. Don't leave anything incriminating in the apartment." He didn't much care about the monitoring equipment since it was of this world, but their comm. devices, zat-guns and Luke's cloaking bracelet, shouldn't be found.

"All right, leave that to me. Now go if you want to have any chance of catching up with the intruders."

Peters nodded, activated the cloak, and stormed out of the apartment. The apartment was almost half a mile from the mansion's perimeter, the closest building where they had found a vacant apartment they could use. He began his fast trek, first down the staircase, the lobby and then on the road leading towards the mansion. Even at a fast pace it was taking him precious minutes to cross the distance between the apartment's building and the mansion. Five hundred meters, slowly turned into four hundred, then three hundred, until he was only fifty meters in front of the mansion's main gate on the south side. It was then that he heard the first shots being fired, somewhere on the east side. It was actually a good thing too, as he noticed the guards behind the gate turning and speeding in that direction.

Passing the now unprotected gate, he thought about where to go. If the intruders were smart, they hadn't started shooting the moment they entered the perimeter. Instead, the first shots he had heard must have been only after the intruders were unwittingly discovered by some guard patrolling the perimeter. It meant that some had probably managed to pass unnoticed and were possibly already inside the house.

Instead of going east, as the guards at the gate had done, Peters continued his trek north, straight for the mansion's main entrance. There was no time to waste, especially if the intruders' goal was to simply kill the scientist, rather than kidnapping him. In his opinion a kidnapping was more probable, as the Cylons would most certainly want to poke the man's brain, but he couldn't be a hundred percent certain. There was also the chance that if the attack weren't successful, plan B was to kill him rather than let him stay free.

He had reached the main door. There were again no guards, probably because they had stormed inside to face the intruders or to bunker down around the one they had been detailed to protect. He hoped for the latter. Entering inside, he made his way towards the west wing, where intel was telling him the good Doctor's room should be. Making his way up the stairs to the first floor, he noticed a guard lying on the ground dead. He heard more shots, both from far to the east, and from west where he thought the scientist should be. He was already late. Some of the intruders were already ahead of him. Making his way further through the west corridor, he quickly saw the first of the intruders. Without thinking, he raised his weapon and fired at him. The man dropped on the floor, convulsing in pain from the zat-discharge. Only then did he understand his mistake. There were two more intruders there who had seen their man being shot, and, in his opinion, they were incredibly good at having put their stupor of seeing the arc of an alien weapon coming from thin air aside and had quickly brought their weapons to bear.

Peters knew they would spray the entire area where he was with their automatic weapon, which meant there was no time to waste. With agility granted to him through his advanced physiology, in three quick hops he was behind a nook and out of the line of fire, but not before a bullet had hit the zat-gun, the hit enough to make him lose it, possibly even damage it. He would recriminate himself for the reckless action that had put him in a very bad position, for years to come. He still had his cloak, but the intruders were good at sporadically spraying the hall with bullets. He thought they would have been more stunned by seeing an invisible opponent, or by seeing some strange weapon firing, but that apparently wasn't the case. Still, they could not keep firing forever.

He would have to wait and see.

* * *

Lida leaned again and quickly glanced through the door at the situation in the scientist's room. There was still one guard inside who had been able to shot the last remaining thug in her team. There were still two of them at the end of the hall from the second team, but they were apparently busy shooting at somebody behind them, which meant she was alone against this last foe.

The guard was good. She was keeping her head down behind a desk. She was conserving her bullets too, only shooting when somebody would show his face through the door, just as it had happened to the now dead thug, and what happened right now, with a bullet hitting the edge of the door, only inches away from her protruding head. The guard was really good, but not good enough, or at least not lucky enough when she'd chosen her cover. The desk was made of thick wood, too thick for a bullet to go through, but the table was also raised two inches from the floor. It was risky, if she missed, but she couldn't see a better plan.

Lida jumped into the scientist's room.

Lying stretched on the floor, she was now able to take aim at the unprotected guard's foot. She sent a storm of bullets from her weapon through the small opening at the bottom of the desk. She was greeted with the guard's shout, clear indication a bullet had found its target. From her crouching stand, the guard dropped to the floor, and now her head and her torso were protruding on the left side of the table. The perfect target.

Another short burst ended the guard's life. Finally, the scientist was alone.

Lida got back on her feet, purposefully moving towards the bed behind which the scientist was hiding. As she reached it, the scientist raised from the floor, both hands raised in a surrendering fashion. There was no time to wait. They needed to get away from the mansion before reinforcements arrived, maybe five more minutes tops. She went to grab the scientist by his right elbow. What happened next wasn't what she had expected, not from a short and slightly chubby scientist anyway. The scientist moved with incredible agility, in quick succession punching her two times, once in her plexus and once in her face. The blows were enough to knock her down, her weapon sliding away from her. How could a mere scientist have such strength, Lida thought through confusion. There was also not much time to ponder on the point, since the scientists was going for her weapon now. With cat-like agility, she quickly got back on her feet, one hand immediately grabbing the scientist's left shoulder and forcing him to turn. Her right hand then proceeded to punch the impudent scientist straight in the face, with all the force she had. The blow made the scientist stumble back a few steps, but the result was far from what she had expected. The scientist straightened up and turned his face to look at her. He had his lips split. A gushing and bloody wound, but that wasn't what caught her attention. It was the evil smile, as if the scientist had felt joy from the punch. Or maybe the joy was coming from what he was planning to do to her, she wasn't sure. Whatever it was the reason for his grin, it sent chills down her Cylons-made spine.

Who the hell was this scientist?

She didn't have much time to ponder on this point either, as the scientist rushed at her with incredible speed, with his right arm grabbing her neck and squeezing with fiendish strength. The punch she got in her plexus next was even worse. She couldn't breathe, she was starting to see double, and if this continued for any longer, she would soon lose consciousness. She did the only thing she thought would work. With all the strength she could muster, she kicked the scientist in the balls with her right knee. It had been enough for the scientist to lose his grip of her neck and to make a few steps backwards, but again it hadn't been the result she had expected. The blow should have been strong enough to send the man's balls into his throat, with the guy ending up on the floor for at least the next fifteen minutes, but instead the result had been much weaker and also a very strange one. She could clearly see the painful expression on the man's face, but she could also see, as if part of him was enjoying it.

As if part of him was cherishing the pain his body was feeling.

Lida, took several quick gasps of fresh air. From what she was witnessing, she didn't have much time before she was once again in the man's grasp, and this time she knew no cheap trick would free her. She sensed rage filling her up, almost reaching a boiling point. She was a Cylon for the love of God! How in hell was a mere scientist, two inches shorter than her, chubby and clearly out of shape, making her sweat so much. She moved quickly, with all the speed her Cylon physiology would grant her, placing a high kick straight in the man's face. She was glad to see that the man had, this time, landed on the floor, clearly the blow strong enough for even _this_ strange and apparently new breed of scientists to be knocked down. If more scientists started to look like this, the Colonials wouldn't need marines anymore. They would start sending scientists on the front line.

She was also of the opinion that even this kick hadn't been enough, and that she needed to finish the man quickly before he could get back on his feet, if she didn't want for this fight to restart. As the scientist was trying to get back on his feet, she kicked him again in his abdomen, before moving in position for what she thought would be the final blow. The last was a powerful kick in the man's head. She was certain that such blow would have killed a normal person, any person really, but somehow she knew it wouldn't kill this scientist. And she wasn't wrong. He was half unconscious from the last blow, but definitely not dead. She went and grabbed her gun. This time she would be much more careful when dealing with the scientist who was, by the look of it, already returning to full consciousness.

She walked closer.

"You surprised me the first time, but try anything like that again, and I'll put a bullet in your head so fast that you won't be able to even blink before it happens, understood?" Lida said, watching the angry scientist's expression. Again, chills went down her spine, almost as if she could sense that there was something _evil_ in the room with her.

"Understood," the scientist replied.

"Good! Now get back on your feet and let's get going. You've already made me lose enough precious time as it is. Waste more of it, and I'll kill you right here and escape without you." It was true. Their fierce scuffle had cost her precious minutes, and she knew reinforcements could come through the door any moment now.

Thankfully, the scientist must have understood that her threat was a serious one, since he quickly got back on his feet and began moving out of the room, a few steps in front of her. As they went through the door, she immediately noticed that something was wrong. She then remembered something else. She didn't know when it had happened, not exactly, as she'd been too preoccupied with her fight with the mad scientist. She didn't know when had the weapons fire ceased. She couldn't remember, but the dead thugs now lying at the end of the corridor, those that had been placed there to protect her rear, were clear indication that somebody was still alive in the house, and more than capable of killing them, and she hadn't paid enough attention on when exactly the bullets had stopped flying.

She didn't have much time to think about it either when she, more than anything else, _sensed_ something being off. It was the sensation of the air being disturbed, straight in front of her, and yet, there was nothing there that she could see. Just and empty corridor with nothing in it that could pose a threat. Therefore, she was incredibly confused when she felt something that was clearly a fist punch hitting her straight in her face, and with incredible force no less. She didn't even have the time to try to react, much less to successfully dodge the blow. It was a complete and incredibly powerful sucker-punch from something or somebody she couldn't even see. No matter how ridiculous that sounded to her or how impossible that was, she knew that was exactly what had happened.

Lida ended lying on the floor, feeling half knocked out. This day was slowly but surely turning into a complete nightmare. First, a fight against a fiendishly strong _scientist_, and then somebody invisible punching her when she finally thought she would be able to successfully complete her mission. She glanced toward the door, noticing that the worst was happening. The scientist was incredibly quick at putting stupor aside, a clear fact since he was already sprinting through the corridor and away from her. With difficulty, she got back on her feet, quickly glancing around hoping she could somehow sense if the invisible entity was still with her. It seemed that it wasn't, but that didn't mean much when dealing with invisible opponents, did it?

She began running through the corridor in pursuit of the fleeing scientist, again, incredibly fast for a man of such flabby physique. She crossed the corridor, quickly going down the staircase by skipping several stairs at a time. She could still see the scientist, now running for the front door. She increased her speed. This was taking too much time.

However, she realized how much time it had really taken only when she'd stepped in front of the main door and noticed the two rushing police cars, now less than a hundred meters in front of south main gate. She stopped, knowing that even if she could somehow catch up with the scientist that more and more was looking like an athlete who should definitely participate at the next Olympics – and who would probably win the hundred meters sprint too – than what her concept of the average scientist was.

The mission had failed, _she_ had failed in capturing the scientist, and she was angry because of it. However, now it wasn't the time for brooding over the unfairness of her current predicament. Now was the time to flee, before the police could secure the entire area. Quickly, Lida turned east and began running towards where she thought more of her team should still be waiting for her. She was hopeful she would at least be able to escape capture, for capture would make this mission an even worse debacle than it already was. Now, the only thing she was worried about was on how she was going to explain to the others what exactly had happened on the mission. How to explain to them why she hadn't been able to deliver the scientist?

She didn't look forward to the moment when she'd have to explain that she'd been bested by no others than a scientist and an invisible opponent.

There was a good chance she would be boxed, for reasons of insanity.

* * *

**_Thanks for reading. You're welcome to leave a review if you wish._**


End file.
